


The Best Laid Plans

by GertieCraign



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Humor, Awkward Blow Jobs, BAMF Castiel, Birthday presents that are NOT ok, Bottom Castiel, Canon Divergent, Canon-Typical Violence, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Time, Compliant thru Nov '16, Crowley Being an Asshole, Crowley Saves Cas's Ass in the Least Appropriate Way Possible, Crowley Ships it, Crowley has been in Hell too long - his rape meter is way off, Crowley is confused by the whole consent thing, Edgeplay, Ellipsis Abuse, Facials, For the most part, Forced Orgasm, Grace Sequestration, Grace Sequestration - Forced, It's an unusual fic - difficult to properly tag, M/M, Math/Physics Humor - just one joke but I'm proud of it, No Sex, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Touching, Orgasm Denial, Porn With Plot, Porn-Adjacent, Prostate Massage, Prostate Milking, Protective Dean Winchester, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rit Zien, Sorta-Kinda, Swearing, Very fucked up use of Enochian sigils or warding, kinda-sorta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-10-07 22:18:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10370922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GertieCraign/pseuds/GertieCraign
Summary: Dean and Cas had no idea how they'd ended up chained to a wall in the basement of...wherever the hell they were. They had no memory of being captured or transported or stripped of their weapons. It was also unclear why Cas was the only one who was mostly naked.They only knew that their plan to steal the Ark of the Covenant had gone very, very badly......and that Crowley was an enormous douche.PS: I think it's fair to say that if you use warded sex toys to edge an angel, that's just cheating.***PLEASE NOTE THE ARCHIVE WARNINGS AND THE TAGS***





	1. Change of Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s January 24th, 2017 - Dean’s 38th birthday. He and Cas kissed for the first time last night. They spent about half an hour necking somewhere in a dimly lit part of the bunker like errant teenagers.  
> Ok...now...onto the story…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of my work is PG13-ish.  
> This...is not that.  
> This fic is at least four kinds of wrong.  
>   
> My hand slipped.  
> I'm sorry.  
> ***PLEASE NOTE THE ARCHIVE WARNINGS AND THE TAGS***

 

  
Cas fought against his bindings using all the strength his human form could muster. He was searching for even the tiniest vulnerability to exploit, but every movement reminded him that the real source of his entrapment lay in the sigils etched into the thick metal collar around his neck. It slipped from side to side as he squirmed, only applying pressure if the angel moved more than a couple of inches in any direction, but the sensation of the metal sliding across his skin was enough. He knew he was stuck. He fought anyway.

The collar’s leash, a thick, fully warded chain, had been threaded through an eye hook embedded into the wall just behind his neck. Though the chain was actually much longer, it was only the distance from the collar to the eye hook that mattered. The rest had been pulled straight upward. It’s end was attached to the wall with a simple carabiner clip, a few feet above his head. Cas craned his neck for what seemed like the hundredth time to look up at that easily opened clip. It was right there. He knew he could reach it, if he could just get one of his arms or legs free. But that...wasn’t happening.

In a fit of frustration and rage, he clenched his abs, jerking his whole upper body forward and slamming his throat against the the metal collar.

Dean winced. Even from more than seven feet away, he heard the sickening crunch of Cas’s windpipe and hyoid smashing against the rigid band.

“Cas! Settle down!” A blue glow immediately repaired the damage to the angel’s throat. “You’re gonna snap your damned neck. Can you even heal yourself if you...ya know… _kill_ your vessel? Don’t you need to be at least a little _alive_ for that?”

“I’m fine,” Cas said through clenched teeth. He tried to pull against the shackles that held his wrists to opposite elbows behind his back, but his upper arms were shackled together, keeping him from getting leverage. He couldn’t even dislocate his thumbs or tear them away entirely to get his hands free.

He growled in frustration and switched his focus from his arms to his legs. They were tightly folded at the knee. Chains led from a warded metal band at his waist to cuffs around his ankles. They had very little slack. This left him with two choices: he could sit _on_ his heels or _between_ them. No other positions were possible. He decided to sit on them. It gave him a little extra height, but it was also slightly more comfortable, since the cuffs just above his knees were attached to a metal bar that was keeping his thighs spread wide. The implications of that bar and it’s placement were not lost on him. He’d seen one of those videos Dean told him not to watch - one his friend kept in that special folder. He knew how such an implement was intended to be used. And that pissed him off even more.

He squirmed and tugged, trying to get one of the chains to slip over his hip or to find any angle that would let him get either of his hands anywhere near one of the ankle cuffs. He kept working, rotating his focus back and forth between his arms and his lower body. With each pass, he was getting more and more frustrated. He began mumbling under his breath...short, clipped, venom-filled phrases in Enochian that Dean didn’t think he’d ever want to hear translated. He was bound and being forced to kneel in his captor’s lair. This was completely unacceptable.

Dean quietly watched as Cas worked himself up to a level of pissed that would make the angel extremely dangerous. He actually pitied any swaggering, unprepared bad guys that might stroll in and start messing with him right now. He’d been hoping that was the kind of bad guys they were dealing with - arrogant and stupid was almost always easier to defeat - but that hope was quickly fading. The way Cas had been bound indicated they knew his capabilities as well as his temperament. It wasn’t a good sign. In fact, it only proved that Dean’s gut was right. He knew exactly who their captor was. And he was gonna kill that smarmy dick.

In one last burst of determination, Cas shoved the back of his head against the wall. He lifted his pelvis, arching his back even further and moving all of his weight onto his bony knees. If it hurt, Cas didn’t show it, but after a moment, he slumped back down. It was useless. He was trapped in those restraints. He couldn’t find a single point of weakness in them. He let his head stay resting against the wall and sighed heavily.

“You done?” Dean asked. It was more a fatalistic confirmation than sarcasm.

“Yeah,” Cas groaned. He looked over at the single, heavy chain attached to a thick metal collar around Dean’s neck. “You?”

Dean pointed to his collar. “Well, this ain’t comin’ off.” He hooked a couple of fingers around the chain extending above the eye hook in the wall and yanked down. It barely moved. “And this ain’t comin’ loose, so...yeah.”

Cas let his head roll to the side. “I don’t suppose you can reach my clothing?” he nodded toward the small pile across the room. “Or my boots?”

“Already tried, while you were still out of it. Not like it’d matter anyway. I’m sure they stripped out anything we could’a used.”

Cas turned back to look at his friend. After a brief pause, he shook his head and closed his eyes. “This is not what I had planned for this evening.”

Dean snorted. “Uh, yeah...me, neither.”

“When we’d finished this job, I’d planned for all four of us to go home.” He opened his eyes and stared at Dean. A lopsided grin slowly crept onto his face. “I...um… I made you a cake.”

“You…” Dean hesitated. He stared at Cas with a mixture of shock and suspicion. “You made… You _baked_ me a cake? Like, a for real cake? In the oven?”

“Yes. A real cake. I made two of them, so Mary and Sam could taste one of them and make sure it was ok.” He looked down. A faint blush was creeping onto his face and chest. “They said it was, so I frosted the other one and...decorated it.” He was quiet for a moment, then ventured a look over at his friend. Dean was grinning at him. Cas’s blush deepened. Not having a shirt to cover with or the ability to turn fully away was making this conversation far harder than he’d anticipated.

“Wow,” Dean said, trying to keep things from getting any more sappy than they already were. This was approaching chick-flick material, so...couldn’t let that stand. “A cake. For my birthday, right?”

Cas squinted at him. And then frowned. “Yes. For your birthday.” He was clearly confused, but there was also a hint of annoyance. He was sure he’d gotten this one right - a cake was definitely the customary item to give to someone on his or her birthday. He’d Googled it. And he’d confirmed it with Sam and with Mary. They’d both been very supportive.

“Well, hell, if you can figure out how to do _that_ , you should’a just made me a pie. I mean...I’m just sayin’, ya know...it doesn’t _have_ to be a cake.”

Cas screwed his face up and glared at him. “You’re welcome!” he barked.

“Ah, man...no, I just meant…’ Dean sighed. “I’m sorry. Ok? I was just sayin’...” He looked over at his friend and smiled, then looked down at his hands. “... somethin’ really stupid. I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat and looked back up at him. “Thanks, Cas.”

The angel looked over at him and nodded once. And then grinned. “The three of us made you a banner, too. We used one of those rolls of Teletype paper.”

“Lemme guess...it says ‘Happy Birthday.’” Dean was smiling, gearing up to continue teasing him.

“No. It says, ‘Happy Birthday comma Dean exclamation point.’” Cas nodded and lifted his chin triumphantly. He lost his balance and had to wiggle a bit to get one of his heels back under his butt cheek.

“Fancy,” Dean said, pursing his lips.

“And we put small drawings of cars and guns and knives between the letters. Sam and Mary knew some rock band symbols and they added those. I drew several good luck sigils in the corners and any remaining blank spaces. They’re silly, of course. ‘Good luck’ is vague to begin with, but...it’s a traditional way of conveying well-wishes and friendship. Among angels. And it...certainly can’t hurt.” Cas swallowed at the tension that had built up in his throat. This conversation was making him very nervous, now, but he couldn’t seem to stop talking. “We also decorated the library tables with streamers and tied balloons to the ends of the bookcases. And we each got you a present. They’re wrapped and sitting behind the cake on the table. Oh...and...there’s one more present, too. It’s in the trunk of your car.”

“Well, damn, Cas,” Dean said. He was trying for lighthearted and realized right in the middle of speaking that he was getting a little choked up. He paused and cleared his throat. “You’re givin’ away all the surprises.”

“Like I said, I thought we’d be going home right away after this. I certainly hope that’s still true, but...in case...um...it takes us a longer time to get home, I wanted you to know.”

Dean was staring at him. He had no idea how to respond. This was so unfair. What they’d had last night was just the tip of the iceberg. There was so much more awaiting them. But they couldn’t even think about it right now. Why? Not because it would be ‘bad’ if they did. That kind of crap thinking was over - for both of them. Cas had made that perfectly clear when he’d finally dropped his guard and thrown down some pizza-man-level kissing. Dean’s scalp was still tingling. No...they couldn’t enjoy it because they were once again trapped in some asshat’s dungeon, awaiting whatever fucked up thing was about to happen to them next, and forced to focus almost entirely on strategy and escape.

Sam had often complained that Winchester timing was a mathematical limit - a rapidly descending curve approaching ‘Absolute Shit.’ It could not possibly get any worse. After Sam had explained what that means and drawn a quick graph, Dean had agreed wholeheartedly. Poor Cas had recently been declared a Winchester, too. Of course, they’d helped to destroy the angel’s life by proxy _long_ before they adopted him, but now he was _officially_ screwed. And somehow the stupid son of a bitch couldn’t be happier about it.

Cas was staring back at him. That familiar, heart-shredding mix of affection, devotion and epic sadness firmly plastered on his face. Dean wanted to tell him he was beautiful. Inside and out. He wanted to tell him he hated that Cas had lost so much, but he was so glad he’d stayed. He wanted to tell him how much he meant to him. How good a friend he was. How much he was looking forward to a piece of that cake, no matter how dry it would likely be, and seeing that goofy banner, and opening up that good bottle of scotch one of them almost certainly had gotten for him so he could pour them both a glass. He wanted to tell him how much he loved him. But he didn’t say any of that. He couldn’t. Not right now.

The sound of footsteps approaching the door to their little prison snapped them out of it. They both briefly looked at the door, and then back at each other.

“Thank you,” Dean said very quietly. He hoped Cas already knew the rest.

Cas smiled fondly at him. “Happy Birthday, Dean.”

“Yes,” Crowley’s unmistakable voice broke the mood, as the door swung open. “Happy Birthday, Squirrel. You’ve somehow managed to live another whole year. It really is astonishing.” He strolled closer to them, flanked by several gigantic hench-demons. He indicated with his head for them to stay back while he spoke with his two...colleagues. “Especially considering the staggering brilliance you displayed with your most recent tactical manoeuvre. Really, Castiel,” he said, turning to the angel, “you were once a storied tactician. What happened, mate? Do your abilities and all sense of reason simply vanish in the presence of the Winchester brain-trust? Or is it just when your boyfriend gets a little too close? A small, tantalizing puff of breath on your neck and you...just...fold. Is that it?”

“Bite me!” Cas barked.

“I don’t suppose you mean a love-bite? Though I see from the state of your neck and collar bones someone has already beaten me to it.” He glanced over at Dean with a smirk. “I assume congratulations are in order?”

Cas’s face fell and he quickly tilted his chin down as far as he could, angling his head to try to get a view of what Crowley was talking about.

Dean glared at him. “Kiss my ass, you douche!”

“Well...I see you must be the influence moving Cas’s vocabulary choices in the right direction.” Crowley reached into his jacket and pulled out Cas’s angel blade, spinning it once, letting the hilt rest lightly in his hand. “You’ll fit right in with your new human family in no time, Castiel.” He made sure the angel saw the stolen property.

“What the fuck is this, Crowley?!” Dean barked.

“Burn those.” Crowley said to the nearest demon. He pointed to the pile of clothing and completely ignored Dean’s outburst. “Use a bit of holy oil in the mix so he can’t reassemble them.” He twirled the blade a few more times, watching the light glint off of its three facets, then turned back to his captives. “Really, the whole outfit needed to go, but...we'll leave the trousers, for now. I don’t fancy the idea of him flopping about in those shackles with his dangly bits free as the wind. Do you?” He looked intently at Dean and a small smirk tickled the corners of his mouth. “Well...maybe you do. But...do us all a favor, Squirrel… next time you pick up a stray, when you take him home, get him some proper clothes. As much as we all hate to admit it, appearances do matter.”

“What’re’ya throwin’ a _fit_ ‘cause you didn’t get the _toy_ you want? You were supposed to wait for our signal that we were in! Not blow through and kill all the guards that were keeping the damned thing safe! Dagon wouldn’t’ve gotten it if you morons had waited more than two god damned minutes before murdering anything that moved! We weren’t the ones that changed the plan!”

“The _plan was_ ,” Crowley growled, “for you lot to enter the compound through the side door. The _plan_...would have worked!”

“There were four guys guardin’ that door. Your _plan_ never mentioned _that_. We found another way in that would have kept us from havin’ to kill anyone...and you were _supposed_ to wait for our _signal!_ ”

“Oh, another way in? Is that why you disappeared for twenty minutes? Was I supposed to glean from your complete silence that you’d discovered this...miraculous, undocumented alternate entry point? _Instead_ of assuming you’d gotten yourselves _captured?_ Or _killed?_ ”

Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head, wiping a hand down his mouth and chin. “We told you up front we weren’t gonna kill any ‘a those people. You _knew_ we’d try to find other ways in. Don’t act all shocked that we found one!” He sneered at the demon. “Oh, and you can tell your people they did a bang-up fuckin’ job with the reconnaissance. ‘Cause that ‘other way in’ we found...the tunnel...was _gigantic!_ We _ran_ through it. Didn’t even have to duck. And it ended damned near directly under the chamber entrance. How the fuck’d they miss that?”

“Oh, I would pass along your compliments to them, but they’re all dead. _Thanks to you!_ ”

“Good.” Dean sneered at him. “Least we got _somethin'_ not entirely shitty outta this.”

Crowley huffed a single, derisive laugh.

Dean shook his head in disgust. “Did you really think we were gonna be ok with you murdering all those people? They were just guards, Crowley! Just a bunch ‘a guys doin’ their job.”

“Of course I knew you wouldn’t go along with it. If you’d stuck to the plan, maybe _some_ of them would still be alive. But, you _didn’t_ stick to the plan. And your _brilliant, impromptu changes_ just _cost_ me _the_ ARK _of the_ BLOODY COVENANT!” Spit flew out of Crowley’s mouth and sailed a very impressive distance.

“Well, that’s too bad. ‘Cause I for one would sleep a whole lot better at night knowin’ somethin’ like that was in your trusty hands.”

Crowley sighed and tucked the angel blade back into his jacket. “You bore me now, Squirrel. You do. You were far more fun with the Mark.”

“ _You_ were more fun when I thought you were dead, so...we’re even.”

“You gain nothing by keeping us here,” Cas interrupted. He was still pulling hard at his restraints, but trying to keep his movements subtle. “Lucifer is still a threat to you and we’re your best allies against him.” Crowley turned, taking a couple of steps to stand just in front of the bar holding Cas’s knees apart. He looked down at the angel with a tiny hint of amusement.

“No, actually. Squirrel, Moose, and the not-so-late Mother Winchester… _they’re_ my best allies against him. If they have an opportunity to take Lucifer down, they’ll take him down. Their feelings for me are immaterial. And while I know you’d do the same...at the moment, Feathers, _you_ are my best chance to recover some of my losses.”

“Don’t even think about it.” Dean’s expression flickered. It was barely perceptible, but Crowley knew him well enough to catch it. He knew it was fear the hunter was so skillfully trying to cover. He narrowed his eyes, watching the man closely for additional clues, but Dean gave him none.

“I had a lot riding on obtaining The Ark,” Crowley continued, slowly walking away from Cas. “Masterworked deals, several layers deep...and they were all destroyed by your clever homespun ingenuity. Giving your little choir boy’s less-than-approving brethren what they want will mitigate at least some of the damage.”

“Give ‘em what? Whadda they want? Crowley, some of ‘em wanna _kill_ Cas! Do you even know which angels you’re dealing with?”

“Oh, I know _exactly_ who they are _and_ what they want. And I intend to give it to them.” He made a motion for the guards to take hold of Cas.

Dean watched as two huge demons strolled over to his friend. He immediately felt panic twist his gut and had to force himself to stay in control. It didn’t last long. One of the demons grabbed a huge fistful of Cas’s hair and hoisted him up the maximum distance his leash would allow.

“Stop!” Dean shouted. He’d stood the moment the guards had started to move toward his friend. He couldn’t stand all the way up, but his leash had a bit more length on the collar side of the eyebolt. He grabbed at both the collar and the chain, instinctively trying to get free. “Crowley!” He really hoped his voice sounded furious...and not the way he actually felt.

Cas grunted and clenched his jaw. Being lifted by his hair hurt. More than he expected. The warding wasn’t just trapping him. It was also partially sequestering his grace, but, thankfully, not by much. He could still control nearly all the sensory inputs from his vessel. He just hoped Crowley intended to leave it that way. Any additional warding would quickly change this from an extremely annoying situation into an ordeal. And he really didn’t want that. Not now. He’d had his ass handed to him enough times recently. He was tired.

The increased height caused the back of Cas’s collar to tilt sharply downward. The front was now digging into his throat and his breath began to sound wheezy.

“Crowley!” Dean boomed as loud as he could. The demon-king was no longer paying him any attention. He seemed to be much more concerned with his phone, at the moment, all but ignoring the scene around him.

Dean could hear Cas wheezing. But that didn’t scare him nearly as much as the fact that his friend was breathing at all. Cas didn’t need to breathe, so if he was, it meant his grace wasn’t able to totally control his vessel. Which meant Cas would be able to feel some or all of this as real, physical pain. Which meant Dean had to make it stop right now.

“Those dicks will screw you over. They always do. You know that! They’ll take what they want and probably just smite you afterward!” Dean’s eyes flicked between his friend and Crowley as he spoke.

The second demon grabbed the bar between Cas’s knees and jerked the angel up off of the floor. He was now suspended by his knees and his hair. Cas clamped his eyes shut, wincing and muffling a very short, involuntary groan.

“STOP!” Dean yelled. His ability to keep fear from showing on his face was starting to waver. He still couldn’t quite believe Crowley was doing this. He knew the demon was horrible. He was a demon, after all. But, they had at least some history. They hadn’t killed each other, at least. That had to mean _something_. And maybe it was just denial or shock, but Dean was having a hard time believing the shifty bastard was actually going to hurt Cas right in front of him. That he’d make him watch.  
  
Cas clenched his abs and curled forward trying to get the demon to let go of the bar. And that’s exactly what the demon was waiting for. The moment the bar moved closer to the angel’s chest, the demon shoved hard, pushing the bar as close to the angel’s neck as he could get it. The demon holding Cas’s hair used his other hand to clip the bar to Cas’s collar. He then let go of his hair.

Cas’s head and jaw dropped down the inch or so to land heavily on the collar. The weight of his body pulling down made it almost impossible for him to open his jaw to speak.

The two demons looked down at him, grinning. “You grab the bar, too, dammit!” the second demon demanded. “He’s heavier than he looks.” His partner complied and they now each had about sixty pounds to support. It was barely a warm-up for the biceps on these two. They looked at each other, then back down at the furious face of their victim.

“Well look at you,” the hair-pulling demon said. He reached out and playfully tousled Cas’s hair with the same hand that had just ripped some of it out. “Just a tiny little angel-ball on the end of a string.”

Both demons chuckled as they began gently bobbing Cas up and down, playing with him like he was indeed a fun new toy. They bounced him a couple of times, too, causing Cas’s weight to slam down hard on his head and jaw. He grunted. He was already getting very sore.

Cas struggled, glaring at the demons and thrashing against the bindings with all he was worth, but he could barely move at all, now. His knees were brushing his shoulders. He was folded up literally every way his vessel could fold.

The demons’ chuckling grew louder. This was a great game for them. They were holding an actual seraph - at least half a billion years worth of Heavenly power and bad-assery right at their fingertips. And he was completely defenseless. All of the bindings were warded. He couldn’t use his power against them. And his human vessel couldn’t get any leverage. The second demon let his free hand skim lightly down Cas’s side. “Mmm, mmm, little angel… you sure picked a pretty meat-suit.” His hand slid lower, cupping one ass cheek and giving it a very firm squeeze.

“That’s the hand you’re gonna lose first,” Dean said. His voice was low, almost quiet. He was glaring when the demon turned and looked at him. “I’m gonna trap your ass and cut you up slow. But that hand...that’s gonna go first. Just a heads up.”

“Did you hear something?” The demon looked to his partner, completely ignoring Dean.

“Ya know, I think I did.” His partner answered. The two of them bobbed Cas a few more times, almost absently. “Kinda sounded like the mating call of an annoying little bitch.” The demon’s hand slid between Cas’s legs, heading for his crotch. He turned and locked eyes with Dean, slowly licking his lips and smiling at the hunter. “But I wouldn’t worry. They’re harmless. Especially when they’re horny.”

“All right, boys. Put your rulers awa - NO!” Crowley barked, cutting himself off. He’d just noticed the demon’s hand fondling the trapped angel. “No sampling the merchandise. Do as you’re told. Nothing else.” He didn’t bother watching the demons sneer back at him. He knew they’d comply. They were stupid...not suicidal.

“Apologies, Castiel,” Crowley said, waving his phone and bending slightly in a parody of a chivalrous bow. “I chose them for their brawn...not their tact.”

“LET! ME! GO!” Cas snarled through his closed jaws.

“In due time.” Crowley looked back to a third demon who’d been waiting by the door. He motioned for him to come forward.

“Look, if it’s a payout you’re lookin’ for, there are still ways to shake something else outta this! What about all that other crap in that chamber?” Dean knew he was grasping. He also knew he had absolutely nothing to give that would make up for the Ark. That thing was pretty much the god-power motherlode, if it was fully intact. And Crowley wasn’t gonna forget about it for a few good hookers and a case of decent scotch. Which is just about all Dean’d be able to pull off with his finances they way they were. All the other stuff in the bunker was either cursed or common. Or they didn’t know what the hell it was yet.

“Trinkets,” Crowley replied. He looked up from his phone to glance at the hunter. “Not even worth collecting.”

The two demons holding Cas stepped further to either side of the angel, allowing the third demon full access to him. Cas had been holding it together a bit better for the last few moments. Struggling was putting far more pressure on his jaw and the base of his skull. The bruising was substantial and he’d had to heal it once already. But as the third demon approached, he felt his resolve begin to crumble. The look on the demon’s face was disturbing. Cas was fairly certain he wasn’t going to like whatever he was about to do.

The demon stood between Cas’s spread legs, eyeing the angel while unrolling what looked almost like a scroll made of cloth. When it was fully opened, the demon showed the angel what was inside.

And that’s when Cas finally started to show some real fear. Though he wasn’t sure of the device’s intended use, he could certainly guess. The current configuration of his vessel was a strong clue. He had no idea why Crowley would do this, but he didn’t care to find out. So, when the third demon handed the cylindrical object to the demon to his right, and then began unfastening Cas’s belt and pants, the angel started to panic. His struggling increased dramatically.

Dean saw the object at the same time Cas started thrashing.

“CHRIST!” Dean yelled. His voice definitely panicked now. “Crowley, what’re you _doin’?!_ STOP THIS!”

Cas was grunting and huffing out little bursts of breath as he tried to move his vessel in any direction it might go. His face had turned beet red with the strain. The fact that his thrashing was causing him to periodically choke himself as well wasn’t helping. He exchanged a pained look with his friend before going back to focusing on his restraints.

Dean watched in horror as the third demon pulled Cas’s pants and boxers down to his mid-thigh and began squirting some sort of slimy-looking lube onto two of his fingers. The demon then rubbed the fingers against Cas’s completely exposed asshole, rolling one of his fingers to coat it.

“CROWLEY!” Dean was screaming now. In another fit of rage and panic, he grabbed the chain keeping him away from his friend and began a frantic attack on the eye hook. He pulled hard enough to feel the skin on his fingers beginning to loosen and peel. He only stopped when he heard Cas cry out.

Dean didn’t look back at his friend. He knew something had just entered Cas, maybe just a finger, maybe something much worse, but whatever it was, it was too much.

“OK! Ok! You win! What do you want, huh?” Dean looked at the demon, fully ready to offer him literally anything. He couldn’t let him do this. Not to Cas. “Look...those dicks want somebody to punish? Give ‘em me! They hate me enough. It’ll make ‘em happy.”

“NO!” Cas screamed as best he could. “Dean! No!”

Crowley rolled his eyes and sighed in disgust. “Oh, for _fuck’s sake!_ ” He shook his head. “Alright. Stop!” he called to the third demon. He sighed again and clicked his tongue. “Bring the damned thing over here.”

The demon looked back at him, surprised. Then he pursed his lips and shrugged, pulling his finger out of Cas’s ass and strolling over to Crowley. He held the cylinder out to his king and Crowley wrinkled his nose, leaning away. “I don’t want to touch it! Just hold it up so he can see.” He gestured toward Dean. The demon complied, offering the hunter a good view, along with a lascivious grin.

“One point one inches at it’s widest point, right here at the tip,” Crowley pointed to the nubbed, bulbous end of the cylinder. It was roughly egg shaped, partially buried in the end of a long, straight tube. “The rest of it is one inch exactly. And it’ll only go in a few inches. It’s basically getting a prostate exam from a thick fingered doctor. Alright?” Crowley looked at Dean emphatically, not bothering to hide his complete annoyance with the man’s seemingly ridiculous panic.

“Please don’t do this.” Dean had only calmed slightly when he saw that it was actually much smaller than he’d thought when he’d seen it from a greater distance. That didn’t matter, though. He still didn’t want that thing anywhere near Cas. “Please, man. Come on.”

“Squirrel… Relax. You’re far too dramatic. It’s a simple insertable...done in a matter of seconds. We’re not going to start trading him for cigarettes.” Crowley looked at the hunter disapprovingly, then motioned for the demon to continue what he’d started with Cas. “If you really want to help him, tell him to stop fighting. The insertable is rather small. It’ll only hurt if he struggles. You know how this works. Plus, the remainder of that wand is just a delivery system. The important part is at the very tip. That’s what’ll stay inside him for a good long while.”

“Don’t!” Dean yelled at the third demon. “DO NOT put that thing in him!” He looked between his friend and Crowley and back rapid-fire. Then fell back to trying to rip that completely immovable eye hook out of the wall with the chain and his bare hands.

Crowley rolled his eyes and shook his head. Then with a small shrug, turned his attention back to his phone.

Cas cried out, but quickly stifled it. Dean stopped what he was doing and turned, looking over at his friend. Their eyes met and Dean realized there was only one way he could help him. And he knew he’d hate himself for it later.

“Don’t fight, Cas,” he said. Tears started to well up in his eyes. He no longer cared. “When he starts to push, bear down a little, like you’re trying to poop.”

Cas was watching him. He looked so confused. It was killing Dean.

“It’s ok,” Dean soothed. He nodded at his friend. “Just don’t fight. It won’t hurt too much if you don’t fight. It’ll just feel...weird.”

Cas kept looking at him, until he felt the metal probe pushing firmly at his ass again. He closed his eyes. He couldn’t turn away. Dean did instead.

Cas cried out again as the instrument breached him and slid inside. He struggled, then immediately forced himself to stop. Dean was right. It hurt if he did that. But he couldn’t keep himself completely still. As the demon pushed the device deeper, Cas twitched and squirmed.

Dean was only watching from his peripheral vision, now, trying not to listen to the small sounds the angel was making.

After a few seconds, the squirming and the sounds stopped almost entirely. Moments later, though, Cas jerked and cried out again. This time, the cry was entirely shock. Dean looked back over at him and saw his friend’s wide-eyed expression. The demon just barely twisted the wand buried inside the angel. Cas’s eyes went even wider, then slammed shut. His breathing increased dramatically, hitching every few breaths, and he made a sound halfway between a groan and a whimper.

“ _Stop!_ ” Dean demanded, his forced calm shattering more with every sound coming from his friend. When the demon king just looked at him, Dean began his own frantic attack against the eye hook, again. “Crowley! God dammit! I will fucking KILL YOU!”

Crowley took in a deep breath and let it out dramatically as he watched his frenemy tug and kick and partially climb the stone wall, trying to get loose. He was briefly reminded of a silverback gorilla making a strong territorial tour around his enclosure. He grinned. Dean as a silver-back. That was a fun thought.

“There,” Crowley said. His tone was soothing and accommodating as he looked at Dean with a grin. He gestured toward the demons as they unclipped the bar from Cas’s neck and lowered him back down onto his knees. The third demon was moving away from Cas, wiping down the metal probe with the cloth it was originally wrapped in. Dean noticed it looked shorter now. The knobby, egg-shaped thing at the end was missing.

“Do his trousers back up,” Crowley ordered the two demons still holding the bar. They both rolled their eyes and sighed in disgust, before jerking the bar back up and tugging roughly at the angel’s pants. “Do it properly! NO additional damage!” the king barked. Both demons glared at him, but they obeyed.

“Now...Squirrel...see? Not a big deal. I’m not going to boil him in oil or make writing pages out of his skin. I’m just...experimenting a bit. Nothing to worry about.”

The two demons finished with Cas and lowered him down to his knees.

“Crowley, I swear I will stab you in both eyes and lock your ass in a god damned septic tank.”

“Squirrel...always so vivid with your threats. Makes my insides warm.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

“What do they want,” Cas grunted. He was fully recovered, but he was squirming just a bit, like there was something still slightly out of place in his vessel. Crowley had been true to his word. He’d suffered little damage other than the crushing emotional blow. It still amazed the angel just how traumatizing outright humiliation in front of those you love can be. For everyone. Violent ways to kill the demon king began floating through his mind like dandelion tufts.

“Don’t you worry over that, Castiel. You just...be a good little angel and...respond.” With the last word, Crowley tapped something on his phone and a few seconds later, Cas eyes went wide again. He grunted and then jerked hard in his chains. He tried to curl forward and to reach down to protect his ass at the same time. He couldn’t really do either and it ended up being a bizarre looking move that knocked him slightly off balance again. But he righted himself. He was breathing harder and had a look of intense concentration on his face, but when his gaze met Crowley’s, it conveyed nothing but hate.

“Hmmm… Not quite what I’m...looking...for…” Crowley again spoke as he fiddled with his phone.

“What the fuck are you doin’ to him?!” Dean yelled.

“Something that...should be intense, but… really not unpleasant. It certainly should be keeping him from being able to consistently hold the hate-face, though. Or the smite-face. Whichever one this is. I can never tell the difference.”

Chains rattled loudly again and Dean resumed his all-out assault on the eye hook.

“Crowley!” Cas growled.

“Ah...here we are. How about...now.” He pressed something on the phone and looked back at Cas. There was a small amount of glee on his face. Like the other demons, he seemed to be enjoying playing with Cas. Though his grin seemed a bit more like he expected the angel to eventually join in the fun.

A few seconds later, Cas’s expression faltered. He curled again. This time he seemed to be getting some kind of pulse or shock that was making him twitch rhythmically. After ten seconds or so, Cas managed to steady himself completely and again level a hate-filled glare at the demon king.

Crowley sighed and the glee fled from his expression. “Well...that won’t do at all. You see, Cas...you bring these things on yourself. Such a hard-ass.” He pressed something on his phone and then slipped it back into his pocket. “Right, then. We’ll do some warding.”

Cas’s glaring expression fell away. He tried to avoid looking at Dean, knowing his face was now showing some level of fear, but Dean caught it anyway.

“What warding?” Dean demanded. “You need to stop this! All of it! Right now! Fuck warding!”

“Oh...if you only knew how close you were.” Crowley teased. He threw a quick smirk at the hunter and motioned for the demons to take Cas again.

“Cas!” Dean yelled, when the angel began another futile attempt to fight. They hoisted him with the same lack of care as before. This time, though, they unclipped the chain from the wall and began carrying Cas out of the room.

“Crowley! God dammit!” He jerked against the chain. “You mother FUCKER! Do NOT HURT HIM! I swear...you SON of a BITCH! I will fucking END YOU! You limey, fucking, PIECE of SHIT!” He pulled until his face was nearly purple. As the door was about to close, he looked up and caught a glimpse of his friend’s face. Cas looked livid and determined and worried and...helpless. He was able to look back at Dean just in time. “CAS!” Dean screamed. The door slammed shut.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was struggling with writer's block and decided to try my hand at the porn. The dirty, nasty, dark, filthy porn. Except I don't actually know how to do that so I spent several days making HazelDomain's life a living Hell. She is so insanely patient. And so helpful. Best beta I could have possibly asked for.  
> And she is orders of magnitude better at this than I am. Omg. If you want actual porn and not this damned near tame version of a non-con, go read her stuff. It's fantastic.
> 
> UPDATE:  
> -I've sucked omgbubblesomg in on the beta work, too. *smooch* Dr. Bubbles! You're awesome!


	2. Really? THIS is the plan?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean figures out the plan - mostly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've changed the overall rating for this fic from 'Mature' to 'Explicit.' My two beta buddies educated me on this issue. Apparently, if something goes up somebody's butt, then the whole fic is definitely 'Explicit.' Good to know. 
> 
> SIDE NOTE: It is actually quite common to be horrified and disgusted by something and then realize you're also seriously turned on by it. This can make you spend several hours staring out a window, drinking heavily and questioning everything you ever thought you knew about yourself as a person. Dean will experience this. Cas might, too. Crowley...will question nothing. He's a demon. Let's all remember that.  
> 

His hands were bleeding. Not just the palms and fingerpads anymore. Now there were open wounds and gashes on the backs, as well. Every knuckle was a raw, skinless mess.

Pulling on the chain to try and pry the eye hook loose hadn’t worked, so he’d begun using it to try to twist the hook out of the wall. The rounded chain links didn’t get any real grip on the equally rounded eye hook, so in order to get any torque, Dean had to line everything up perfectly before applying some force. He’d get a second or two of braced leverage against the hook before the chain links would slip and Dean would once again rake part of his hand against the rough stone. The wounds were already beginning to swell and it would only get worse, he knew. But he couldn’t stop. He _had_ to get free.

When it became clear that the chain would never give him the leverage he needed to twist or pull the eye hook out, Dean had one last idea. He raised his right leg up high, placing the sole of his boot on top of the eye hook. He shifted his left leg a bit, trying to get the best angle he could and still keep his balance. He was hunched over by the restricted length of the chain, but it was enough for him to get his foot high enough. He could still lift it a few inches.

When he’d lined himself up as best he could, he let go of the part of the chain that led to his collar and instead gripped the part that was hanging along the wall. He lifted his right boot as high as it would go and then stomped down hard, letting the sole of his boot impact the eye hook with as much force as he could produce. He raised his boot again and repeated the action.

On the fourth strike, his boot slipped, catching on the chain and sharply jerking down on his collar. The blow was strong enough to knock him completely off balance. He fell hard and the collar bit mercilessly into his throat when the chain snapped taut.

Dean instantly grabbed onto the chain and pulled himself up into a higher sitting position, rubbing at his throat as he coughed and retched. He took a moment to just breathe - his own warning about ‘not killing your vessel’ drifting back to him. He’d just come extremely close to hanging himself and the last thing Cas needed was for those goons to drag him back into this cell and chain him to the wall a few feet away from the bug-eyed corpse of his best friend. That would be less than optimal.

He looked across the room at the empty eye hook and all of his thoughts once again focused on Cas. There were so many ways those bastards might be hurting him right now.

Dean rubbed at his throat again and looked everywhere for something...anything he might have missed that he could use to escape. But the room was completely bare.

The sound of footfalls got his attention. He listened closely, trying to guess at how many there were. Three. Definitely three. They approached the door and stopped. Dean wrinkled his brow. They’d only been gone about fifteen minutes. Why would they be back so soon? Warding took time - cutting or tattooing or burning. And it all had to be perfect for it to work. That wasn’t something you could do quickly. Not that he knew of, anyway.

He raised his butt off of the floor and shifted around so that he was squatting on his haunches. _Not_ kneeling.

There was the familiar ‘snick’ of a card sliding through a reader before a series of digits were typed into a keypad. The heavy door swung open with a groan from it’s hinges. Dean snorted in disgust. He hadn’t noticed that particular horror movie touch during Crowley’s previous visit, but leave it to that self-important tool to go in for clichéd theatrics whenever possible.

Crowley stepped into the room first and slowly strolled toward his captive. The same two hench-demons from earlier came in behind him, carrying a snarling and thrashing Castiel. The angel had switched to a language Dean didn’t recognize, but whatever he was saying was definitely getting under the skin of the goon holding the knee bar. The demon was grinding his teeth hard enough to make the muscles around his jaw stand out like ropes.

“Lock him down here,” Crowley said, casually toeing at an eye bolt in the center of the floor. He stepped away as the demons brought Cas over and set him down on his shins. The hair-pulling demon was back to doing his job very well, holding Cas’s head still, while his partner worked. Cas was looking straight at Dean. He could see the pain in the man's eyes...and the condition of his hands. He knew it was on his behalf.

For a very brief moment, none of the demons were looking at him and Cas took the opportunity to throw a quick wink at his friend. He never missed a beat in his tirade.

Dean let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Cas was ok. Maybe they hadn’t hurt him all that much. Or maybe they had and he was just that fucking metal, but either way...he was ok enough right now to still be focused and in control. The hard twisting in Dean’s gut began to ease a bit.

The angel’s arms were no longer bound behind his back. Instead, round, metal mitts fully encased his hands and wrists. The short chain between them was secured to the knee bar with a simple clip...which the target of Cas’s scathing words was about to release. Cas watched the demon. Waiting.

Dean could see what Cas was gearing up to do and he briefly wondered if the angel had some kind of plan for escape. He was pretty sure he didn’t. Even if he got his hands loose, he wouldn’t be able to move his legs to run and he certainly wouldn’t be able to take down all three demons at once, without using his power. Cas was likely just going to get a shot in because he was pissed and he could. Dean understood that entirely. It was almost always a stupid move, but...he knew he'd do the same thing, given half a chance. He watched his friend closely, waiting for the action and the eventual, really ugly retaliation. He hoped they wouldn’t hurt him too much.

In a move so fast Dean’s eyes almost couldn’t follow it, the instant the demon unclipped the shackles, Cas jerked the metal mitts up and slammed them into the demon’s face. The gigantic male vessel was sent flying, blood squirting from his ruined mouth and nose. Several teeth skittered across the floor.

That got Crowley’s attention.

"Manete!" He held his palm out toward the angel. Cas froze in place. His face seemed to be the only part of him he could still control so he glared at Crowley out of the corner of his eye.

The badly bloodied demon rose slowly and walked back over to stand in front of Cas. He loomed over the angel, taking a moment to spit a rather large quantity of blood onto the floor directly in front of him. Another tooth landed there with it.

“Here’s a tip,” Crowley said, looking up at the enraged, bleeding hulk. “Get your prisoner locked into the _new_ restraints _before_ you unlock the old ones. Makes the whole process much less messy.”

The demon closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before opening them again. He was literally shaking with his need to rip apart the seraph kneeling in front of him. Cas let a tiny sneer lift one corner of his mouth.

“...Ee-oh-rah en-oh-rah-mah-oh-el-ah-peh,” Cas hissed, slipping back into Enochian to continue whatever incendiary remarks he’d been spewing before the punch. His voice was low and harsh, clearly mocking the demon.

“Whenever you’re done gazing into his big baby blues…” Crowley prodded, ignoring the angel’s attempts to further rile his crew.

The demon curled his lip. Reaching up high, he grabbed a chain hanging from the ceiling and pulled down enough slack to reach Cas’s cuffed wrists. He secured them to it using a thick, heavy padlock and then used an identical lock to attach the knee bar to the eye bolt in the floor.

The hair-pulling demon finally let go of his favorite handhold and squatted down behind Cas, unclipping the two chains that were keeping Cas’s ankles attached to the waist band. He pulled the loose ends down and together, and used another padlock to bind the angel’s ankles to each other.

“...deh-el-voh-yeh-ah-rah,” Cas continued as they worked him over. He made sure to pronounce each syllable sharply, so the target of his taunting wouldn’t miss a thing.

Dean tried not to let the dread show on his face. Cas had this guy pushed all the way to his limit, so whatever the angel wanted out of this...Dean knew he was about to get it. And it was gonna hurt. A lot.

Crowley waited until the demons had finished securing Cas and then pulled a remote control out of his pant pocket. Seconds later, the chain began to retract back onto the spool mounted to the ceiling. Cas’s arms slowly rose. The angel seemed to ignore it entirely, in favor of keeping his eyes glued to the demon in front of him...and finishing his insult.

“...bah-voh-tah-mah-oh-en kua-voh-ah-ess-ah-hee.” Immediately after the last syllable, he spat on the demon. And that was it. The demon hauled back an enormous fist and punched straight into the center of Cas’s chest.

Cas let out a hard puff of breath, lurching backward and trying to pull in more air. He was not successful.

Dean fought his instinct to dart forward. His throat was still aching from his earlier mishap and he didn't want a repeat.

The chain stopped retracting.

With two swift movements, Crowley pulled the angel blade out of his suit jacket and plunged it directly into the demon’s back, through the ribs and into his heart. A scream, a flash...and the demon dropped like a sack.

“Like I said,” Crowley calmly admonished the corpse at his feet, “you’re not to sample _or damage_ the merchandise.”

The demon’s partner frowned. “Great,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Now I gotta do this myself? He’s hard to hang onto when he squirms!”

“I’d be happy to ‘unburden’ _you_ , as well.” Crowley looked at the demon, gesturing vaguely with the blood-covered blade. “I’m sure you noticed the rather large number of potential replacements wandering about this facility.”

The demon glared back at him. Then at Dean. Then down at the angel, who was just finishing healing himself and had a very smug look on his face.  

“Fine,” the demon said, and huffed. He looked and sounded exactly like a chastised tween.

“Check him. I don’t want him getting loose. And then remove...that,” Crowley finished by pointing at the dead demon.

It took a very short time for the demon to finish those tasks. He dragged the body of his former partner out into the hallway, leaving Crowley alone with his two captives. When the dead demon’s feet cleared the door, Crowley gestured and it slammed closed. He sighed.

“That was unnecessary, Castiel.” He frowned down at Cas and shook his head. “And I’m surprised at you. I know angelic humor can be rather coarse at times, but honestly...that was just filthy.” He raised his hand toward the angel again. “Ad levo onus tuum.”

Feeling the spell lift, Cas immediately began to pull and squirm against his restraints.

“I expected greater decorum from a seraph of your rank. And by the way...that scenario was implausible,” Crowley continued. “No one can fully service a hundred men, using only their mouth, in a single orgy. Even if he and his mother _had_ taken turns, as you suggested - it’s just not possible without magical healing.”

Cas ignored him. He made a few more quick attempts to pull his hands and wrists free, but failed. It was the same with his legs. He sighed and then relaxed a bit, looking up to meet Dean’s eyes.

“You ok?” Dean’s voice was quiet.

Cas nodded once. He didn’t look away. Neither did Dean.

“I told you, Squirrel. He’s fine.” Crowley tucked the hilt of the bloodied angel blade under his arm, careful not to dirty his suit. He was still holding the remote and pressed it again, stretching Cas and his chain into a nice, straight line from floor to ceiling. Cas winced, but refused to let any other signs of discomfort escape him. He fought the stretch, keeping his muscles engaged, but Crowley knew this trick. He waited, giving Cas a moment to believe he’d been stretched fully. At the first sign that he’d begun to relax, Crowley pressed the remote again.

Cas tried to clench, but the pull was too strong. The growing strain in his arms and shoulders was forcing him to relax his core to take the pressure off. His belly went from flat to concave and then to completely hollowed out as he tried to elongate.

Dean’s mind screeched to a halt. Crowley now had Cas positioned in such a way as to make his intentions perfectly and terribly clear. All the blood drained from Dean’s face. He swallowed. Hard.

He’d seen this exact setup before - many, many times - but with a different main character. The way Cas looked...shirtless, barefoot, kneeling and stretched from floor to ceiling, legs spread wide...it was an almost exact replica of the video Dean considered one of his all time favorites. In fact, he had a few timestamps in this particular scene memorized. He’d watched it for the first time a little over five years ago. Ever since, just thinking about it had been the quickest and most efficient way Dean had ever found to ‘take the edge off’ and be done. It was a big help when he was really tired, but still needed the release before he could relax and pass out. No more suffering through a foggy brain that refused to sleep _and_ refused to focus on something hot enough to get him off.

Thinking about the video was usually enough, so he reserved his re-viewings for those coveted alone-times, when he knew Sam would be gone for several hours. He didn’t want to watch it too often and ruin it.

Like every good thing that had ever happened to him, the video was both a blessing and a curse. Flashes of this scene had been responsible for him being stuck with an unwanted boner at several radically inappropriate times. But, still, he’d never give it up willingly. It was too good. Too helpful. And he’d been very thorough in its safe-keeping, so any shitty, capricious bad guy who tried to take it from him would have to work very hard to find and delete a lot of strategically placed backup copies, before prying his laptop from his cold, dead hands. 

So, when Crowley had asked, during their oh-so-delightful time ‘living it up’ together, what Dean had always wanted to do, the unforgivably stupid demon-version of himself had sent the evil son of a bitch _that_ video.

And Crowley was now using it against him. And Cas. Dean felt sick.

He watched as his friend’s ribs and hip bones began to poke out. It looked more and more uncomfortable with every millimeter he was stretched. Cas was clenching his jaw, trying hard to not make the sensations he was feeling any worse by continuing to struggle. He tilted his head forward, looking down at himself. The demons had taken his belt when they’d done the warding and he could feel the waistband of his pants becoming far too loose. It slid lower and lower, stopping about a third of the way down his hips. The metal band also slid down, coming to rest on the crests of his hip bones.

Dean saw those baggy pants slip and hoped they wouldn’t fall any further. Helpless sucked enough. Naked and helpless was always worse.

His very next thought made him instantly pissed at himself. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the images, but his hind brain was not having any of this self-denial crap. It screamed, very helpfully reminding him that the only two things keeping Cas’s pants up right now were his well defined ass and whatever he was packin’ up front.

 _‘And...here we go,’_ he thought. He sighed heavily, bracing himself for the onslaught of merciless temptation, horror, and staggering guilt. Basically, exactly what he should have expected after letting himself have something as great as what he’d had last night. And Cas was going to pay for it, too. Perfect.

He mentally kicked his own ass for the self-pity. That would just be an energy leech. He needed to focus everything he had on finding a way to get them both out of there. Immediately. Before Crowley had a chance to go any further with this.

He composed himself and looked back up at his friend.

Cas’s wince became much more pronounced and Crowley pressed the remote, halting the stretch.

“Hmmm…” Crowley pursed his lips and grimaced. “That’s not ideal. Hurts a bit, does it Cas?”

Cas had no intention of responding in any way whatsoever. Crowley took a step, positioning himself to better see the angel’s face.

“I assume from your expression, and the distinct lack of interest taking place in your trousers, that this type of pain is  _not_ a kink of yours?”

“Is there a point to this?” Dean demanded. He was done watching Crowley calmly size Cas up, like a tailor measuring him for a damned suit.

“It’s very important,” Crowley began as he reversed the chain and lowered Cas’s arms a few millimeters at a time, “that he be in just the right position...for maximum effect.” He was slightly distracted as he spoke, paying more attention to the reactions on Cas’s face and in his body. When he was satisfied with Cas’s level of stretch, he slid the remote into his pant pocket and then reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his phone. He began flipping through his applications, once again. Moments later, the phone made a _‘whoosh’_ sound.

“That’s the remote, isn’t it? Your phone?” Dean asked. He already knew the answer. He let his head hang forward and dragged a hand over his hair, ending by scrubbing at it harshly in frustration. “Fuck…” he whispered. He looked back up and let his arms rest loosely on his knees. “You’re really gonna do this.” He was staring at Crowley, but speaking to himself...shaking his head.

Cas jerked hard and grunted, curling his abs and throwing his head forward. He held his breath for a few seconds, then let it out and began gasping through clenched teeth.

“Cas.” Dean’s full focus was on his friend again, watching him struggle to regain control of his vessel.

“That’s the basic setting,” Crowley said, more to himself than to either of his captives. He ignored Dean’s quiet epiphanies. “There’s also this one.” He again tapped his phone. The same _‘whooshing’_ sound followed.

Dean looked back at Crowley, trying to figure out how much pain it would take for him to wake himself up. Because this was obviously a nightmare. He must have banged his head when he fell a few minutes ago. This couldn’t be happening.

Cas yelled, eyes momentarily very wide before his entire face screwed up tight and he was holding his breath again. Dean could see his lower abs twitching and pulsing as they had earlier, but it was much more pronounced, now. Cas had less control over his vessel - that much was clear. Crowley must have put the warding somewhere Dean couldn’t see. Maybe on his back?

Cas puffed out the lungful of air and began to pant, hard and desperate and interrupted every few seconds by a quick gasp, as the thing inside of him moved or pulsed or...whatever Crowley’s fun little ‘app’ was making it do.

“Lemme get this straight,” Dean said. He stared at Crowley in utter disbelief. “ _This_ is what the _angels_ want?”

Crowley scowled at him. “I’m trying to create something here. It’s a process. Requires concentration and finesse. So, I’d appreciate it if you’d _shut up for five seconds!”_ He pressed something on the phone, sending another ‘whoosh.’

Cas threw his head back and yelled. It was much louder and it took longer for him to regain enough control to clamp his mouth shut and muffle the few more sounds he made. He was squirming constantly, clenching his abs and trying very hard to squeeze his knees together. It only took a few seconds before nearly his entire body started to shake.

“Ah,” Crowley said. He smiled his satisfaction. “There...that’s the one that works best then.” He looked back at Dean and motioned toward the angel. “See?” Reaching down, he grabbed the side of Cas’s pants and curled his fingers into the fabric, pulling the front panel snug against the angel’s pelvis. Cas tried to tilt his hips away from the pressure. But it was useless. He couldn’t move.

Dean followed the motion and saw the bulge the demon was highlighting with the fabric. He immediately looked away. But the mortification he felt at his friend being bound and displayed so callously was quickly overshadowed by complete confusion. He shook his head and stared back at Crowley.

“ _That’s_ your goal? Just...get him _hard_? Are things _that_ slow in Hell these days? What the _fuck_ is _wrong_ with you?!”

Crowley straightened back up and slipped his phone back in his breast pocket. He sighed and briefly shook his head at Dean before turning and strolling toward the door.

Cas was still squirming and panting. Small gasps were making their way out of him every few breaths.

“Do NOT _leave him like this!_ ” The demon opened the door and walked out, letting it swing closed on it’s own behind him. “CROWLEY!” Dean screamed just before the door banged shut.

For several minutes, Dean did his best not to move too much or make any distracting sounds. Or look at Cas too much. Or look away too much. Or let what he was feeling show on his face too much.

It was obvious Cas was trying extremely hard to control whatever he was experiencing, but hadn’t mastered it yet. There seemed to be little pattern to it. He’d twitch, contracting every major muscle in his body and he’d hold that for a second or so. Then the squirming would begin again, as he tried to move his vessel into a position that might give him some relief from whatever he was feeling. But that was futile. His abs continued to contract over and over, and he seemed almost desperate to pull his knees together.

Then, with a very relieved sigh, Cas relaxed in his chains, letting himself just hang from his arms. He took a few breaths before raising his head back up to look at Dean.

“It stopped?” Dean asked.

“Apparent-LY!” Cas grunted the last syllable, clenching his entire vessel again and throwing his head back, arching. Then the arch reversed and he curled forward...well, tried to. He was openly panting, now. For a few seconds, his eyes screwed closed, his face scrunched, he clenched his jaw...and then his face dropped the tension almost entirely and his body became loose enough for him to begin squirming and curling. The tension in his legs was back and he was squeezing against that bar for all he was worth. It didn’t take long for his thighs to begin to visibly shake from the strain.

Dean leaned forward, dropping his knees down to the floor. The collar on his neck threatened to choke him again, so he halted. He couldn’t reach Cas. Couldn’t help him.

Cas let out a cry that lasted several seconds. His entire body clenched and shook. Then there seemed to be some type of let down. He took a few fast deep breaths, trying to recover.

“It’s that thing inside, right? That’s what’s doin’ this? Is it the _only_ thing?”

Cas nodded, still panting. “Yeah,” he said. Another few breaths. “It seems to...somehow know...when to, uh...when to switch to different kinds of...of… um...different ways...to...um...I don’t know what...to call it…”

“It’s, uh… It’s probably vibrating, right? Like, pulsing?”

Cas nodded. “Yeah, that...yes. And moving...somehow. I can’t...I can’t explain. I can’t access it with...my, um...my grace.” He stopped to breathe again and swallowed. “But it can tell when...it stops when I...uh…” He grunted, squeezing his thighs and grimacing.

“It stops when you get close,” Dean said. He already knew the answer. This was just like the video. Dean’s face hardened. “GOD DAMMIT, CROWLEY!!!” He yelled around the room.

A speaker, hidden somewhere among all the chains and gear on the ceiling, crackled to life.

“I told you I wasn’t going to hurt him.”

“ _This_ is hurting him!” Dean yelled back at him. “This is _absolutely_ hurting him!”

“It’s not…” Crowley clicked his tongue and mumbled something. “Since when is edging someone torture?”

“When _isn’t_ it?!”

“You seem to have no problem watching it happen to the guy in that video!”

“The guy in the video is a career, BDSM porn star! He’s into that shit!”

“And I suppose that makes it different somehow,” Crowley snarked.

Dean’s mouth hung slightly open and he shook his head...amazed. “YES!”  

The sound of Crowley sighing rang through the speaker. “I’m not having this argument with you.” There was a very brief pause and the demon clicked his tongue several times...thinking. “Your angel appears to have re-harnessed his inner-boring and killed all the fun. Again. We’ll have to do a bit more warding after all.” The demon king sighed heavily one last time, and then the speaker cut out.

Dean took that in for a split second and then looked over at Cas. His friend had managed to get his vessel under control. He was still twitching just a bit, but he looked far more calm. He was no longer panting or curling or squirming. He’d obviously figured out how to get his grace on board in this fight. And now Crowley was gonna lock more of it away.

Cas looked at him for a long moment. He sighed quietly...mournfully...and briefly closed his eyes.

“You have to promise me you won’t,” he said.

“Won’t what?”

“You won’t give them what they want. They’re looking for more ways to slander me. More evidence of the...totality of my fall.” Cas took a deep breath and let it out. “The angels. They want to use you…” He shook his head. “Those who hate me have vilified me in every possible way. I won’t allow them to use you… what I feel for you...”

“Ah, come on, Cas,” Dean said. He sighed. “Ya know...I get it. I do. You shouldn’t have to deal with their bullshit. And I know we need to try to fix it, somehow...if we can. But at some point, you just gotta figure...ya know...fuck ‘em. They can think what they want. You got family here, now, and we’ve actually got your back, so...if they don’t like the way you’re livin’ or if they got a problem with me and you, then they can come down here and kiss both our lily white asses.

Cas grinned at him. “Agreed,” he said, and snorted. “But you misunderstand me. I don’t care what they think. I can’t change that anyway, so it hardly matters.”

“Ok...so…” Dean coaxed. “That’s it, then. Don’t worry about whatever they’re tryin’ to get on you. We’ll just focus on gettin’ the hell outta here.”

“They took my memories, Dean. The things that make me...me. Relationships, knowledge, whole events...it’s impossible to know how much they’ve taken from me. And that was _before_ they hated me. Now, they’re working to ruin any relationships I might have left. They already have enough evidence to destroy me completely. They’re just being cruel, now, and I won’t allow it.”

Dean wasn’t sure what to say, so he just looked at his friend and nodded. He knew he was still missing a lot of information when it came to Cas’s fall...what it really meant and just how much he’d lost. What little he did know was staggering enough. But, now it sounded like they might try to do something more punitive at some point. That...did not bode well. He’d have to ask Cas a whole lot more questions about all of this. After they got out of _this_ mess.

Cas sighed again, relaxing his cheek against his right arm as he hung there, looking at Dean.

“What I feel for you, Dean...what I’ve always felt for you...it’s precious to me. Sacred. And it’s _mine._ They have no right to take it and twist it into something lurid and evil. I won’t let them do that.”

Dean sighed and nodded again. Another staring contest had begun and neither of them felt any need to stop it.

After a long pause, Dean’s face altered almost imperceptibly. Cas groaned and rolled his eyes. He knew what was coming.

“You, uh...ya got a little deep there, Cas.” He was slightly less successful at keeping his expression completely deadpan.

“Yes, I’m...known to do that from time to time.” Cas cleared his throat and briefly looked away, trying to keep up with this game. It was difficult. There was already the hint of a grin tugging up one corner of his mouth.

“Nah, it’s cool...it’s cool,” Dean said, putting his hands up and pursing his lips. “It’s just...I was gonna say somethin’, but that kinda killed the mood.”

“Ah. I see. My apologies.” Cas gave a single dignified nod. Then shifted a bit, shaking and rattling his many chains. It may or may not have been an intentional manoeuvre, but it definitely added an additional unspoken ‘fuck you’ to the end of his reply. Dean snorted and grinned. Then he cleared his throat and forced his face to be neutral again.

“Eh...it’s ok. Not a big deal.” He sniffed. “I was just gonna say I changed that thing I said earlier. It was supposed to be ‘kiss our hairy white asses’, but then I remembered I’ve never actually seen your ass, so I don’t know if it’s hairy. Or white.”

Cas squinted at him for just a second, and then sighed in mock-disgust. “I would imagine it’s the same color as the rest of my vessel’s skin. I can’t say I’ve ever looked either. But it certainly wouldn’t be white. No skin is actually white. Even with albinism, there is at least some coloration.”

“I dunno. There’s parts of me that never see the sun and they pretty much glow in the dark. And my ass is kinda hairy. Just warnin’ ya. Not sasquatch hairy, just...ya know...manly.”

Cas grinned. “I remember.”

Dean stared at him. “When have you seen my ass?”

“I rebuilt every part of you, exactly as you were. Minus some of the damage that had been done over the years. I removed scars and repaired your liver, for instance.”

“So, you got rid of a bunch of damage, and fixed shit, but it never occurred to you to maybe NOT put my _ass hair_ back on?”

Cas snorted again, openly smiling now. “Again...my apologies.”

“Come on, man! Think this shit through next time!”

“Perhaps...that’s a mistake I could remedy.” Cas said. His smile became a bit more wry. “Maybe, um... _revisit_ that area, when we get home.”

The staring contest that followed that little bombshell was far more intense than normal. Dean swallowed. Cas tilted his chin down and intensified the stare. Moments later, Cas was gritting his teeth and curling, clenching against the bar and squirming. It took him about twenty seconds before he was able to breathe steadily enough to speak.

“Ok...we can’t...uh...talk about...about that.” Cas gasped between abdominal clenches.

Dean winced the entire time. “Yeah. Sorry. You ok?”

“Gimme a sec,” Cas scraped out. “Will be.”

Dean watched as Cas slowly got himself under control again. He waited until he was almost back to calm before he spoke.

“That was some grade-A flirtin’. I’m proud of ya.” He smiled at his friend and chuckled, hoping to lighten the mood again. It worked. Cas smiled back.

“Thanks.”

Footsteps approached. The slide of a card again and the door began to open...creepy sound effects still just as melodramatic. Both prisoners ignored it.

Cas looked at Dean...intense, as always. “Promise,” he whispered.

Dean nodded. “Yeah.”

Crowley strode up to Cas’s side and there was a familiar ‘whoosh’ sound from his phone. Seconds later, Cas visibly relaxed and closed his eyes. He took a very deep breath and let it out.

“This would be much easier for all of us if you’d both just relax a bit.” Crowley slipped his phone back into his pocket and straightened his suit jacket. He motioned for the hair-pulling demon and his newly recruited partner to approach. Before they started unlocking Cas’s chains, Crowley held up one hand toward the angel.

“Manete.”

Cas’s body froze once again...everything but his face, which he promptly screwed up into his nastiest rage-sneer. But then he just let it go. There didn’t seem to be much point.

Dean snorted, casting his gaze downward and shaking his head. “I swear, Crowley, if you don’t stop this -”

“Yes, yes, violent death, horrifying scenario, blah, blah… Save it, Squirrel. It’s getting old, now.” He smiled at Dean. “Just like you.” His tone had changed. It was almost gentle. Sentimental. It was creepy. He gestured toward Cas. “It’s nice to know you’ll have someone by your side in your golden years.”

Dean chuckled humorlessly. “I _cannot_ think of a single thing I care about less than your opinion. Seriously. Pocket lint rates higher.”

“Look...this is only a bit of intense stimulation. It’s not like I’m handing you a box full of toys and saying you should recreate that video start to finish. Mind you, that would certainly be more fun to watch.” The demons finished unlocking Cas and picked him up by his wrists and knee bar. Crowley nodded to them and they carried Cas toward the door. He looked back at Dean. “The two of you have managed to make this entire endeavor mind-numbingly dull so far.”

“Why are you doing this really?” Dean asked. “What could they possibly be offering you?”

“I assure you...it’s a simple business deal. Nothing more. I give them what they want, and they give me three kilograms of purified iridium. Not bad for an afternoon’s work.” He sighed, disgusted. “Though at this rate it could take a week. Which, by the way...I won’t tolerate, Dean. I suggest you and your boyfriend get with the program sooner rather than later. If you don’t...Castiel is the one who’ll pay for your stubbornness. Not you. Keep that in mind.”

“What am I supposed to be doin? You’ve got me chained to a damned wall. Gonna be kinda hard to have a good make out session if we’re a few feet apart the whole time. That _is_ what you’re goin’ for here, right? Get me to climb all over him so your peep-show-freak angel buddies can get their kink on?! You sick son of a bitch!”

“What I’m ‘goin’ for’,” Crowley mocked, badly imitating Dean’s accent. He pursed his lips and shook his head at the hunter. “...is very simple. I want what everybody wants at this point...for you to take care of your angel.” Crowley turned, continuing to speak as he strolled casually toward the door. “Your love-sick, angst-filled, morbidly self-denying, stupidly devoted little angel. Because honestly...your constant pining and ridiculousness is grating on everyone’s last damned nerve.” He turned to look back at Dean from the hallway. “And you must be stopped.” He motioned and the door slammed shut.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to HazelDomain and omgBubblesomg for their help with this chapter. They're both fabulous. They took the time to work through and find my mistakes and add wonderful suggestions. And then I wrote another, like, thousand words and tacked it on and then just posted the chapter in some kind of crazed, knee-jerk response to 'finished-ness' that I can't explain. So, basically, if there's anything really screwed up in this, it's entirely my fault.


	3. Planned Misery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok...gagging a seraph while using warded sex toys to edge him is DEFINITELY cheating. 
> 
> Also, Crowley is artsy in a very rapey way.

Cas was gone for more than two hours. It gave Dean plenty of time to think. And that was never good. By the time he heard footsteps approaching the cell door and the ‘shick’ of the card reader, he’d already gone through every stage of anger, heartbreak, panic and sadness he had available to him. The only thing left was ‘depression’, but there was no way he’d allow that to take over. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to make it to ‘acceptance’. He’d had that conversation with Sam when the kid was about fourteen and that was the last time either of them had brought it up. They’d been in yet another terrifying, nearly hopeless, life or death situation that no child should ever have to experience, and an exhausted, embittered Sam had begun a philosophical tirade borne out of his own despair. Dean had nipped that in the bud immediately.

‘You don’t ‘accept’ _shit!_ ’ he’d yelled at him. ‘Not until you’re _done_. And by ‘done’, I mean dead...or whatever bad thing you’re worried about has already happened and it’s over. ‘Til then, you suck it up, and you work the problem, and you kick it’s ass! Fuck ‘acceptance!’ And fuck the rest ‘a that bullshit you just said! That whole ‘stages of grief’ crap can blow me!’

He’d been aware, even then, that he could have been a little less shitty about it. It’s not like Sam had suggested they just give up and die. He’d just been trying to talk through the nightmare he was living. But it had tripped Dean’s trigger and his old buddy Rage had taken a turn at the wheel. He knew if he were a normal person that kind of a reaction would be really problematic. But he wasn’t normal. Nothing would ever change that. And Rage was handy. Rage had saved his ass at least a hundred times. It had saved a whole lot of other people, too, so he was nowhere near ready to say goodbye.

The door to the room creaked open and, like before, Dean could hear Cas before he could see him. Except this time, Cas wasn’t cursing in some ancient language or spitting nails trying to get loose. He was just grunting, and breathing like a steam engine.

The demons plopped him down hard on the floor, same position as before. Dean saw him and immediately looked down at his own hands. Cas’s pants had been pulled about a third of the way down his thighs and the waistband and zipper flaps were rolled inward. He was completely exposed and rock hard. The coloration looked painful, even from the small amount Dean had seen before he’d looked away. When the demons dropped him down onto his knees, his swollen cock and balls bounced heavily and Cas yelped through the heavy gag clamped around his mouth. He instinctively tried to pull his hands down to protect himself, but the demon’s grip on his shackles was too strong.

His captors made short work of getting him back into position and Crowley began to retract the chain toward the ceiling. Cas groaned miserably. He pulled and jerked against the chains while he still could, but even those movements were stifled. The demons had added some new features to his bindings that were making everything much more difficult for him.

“You see, Squirrel...the wonderful thing about playing with angels,” Crowley began. He was still adjusting Cas’s level of stretch with the remote as he spoke. “...is how susceptible they are to warding. It allows for an almost limitless variety of suppressions or enhancements. Normally, whenever they receive an injury to their vessel, they’ll heal it automatically. It’s instinctive. Wounds, muscle fatigue, blood loss...chafing… It all heals very quickly. This can be of enormous benefit in a particularly long or violent play session, but it tends to be problematic when the wearing down and eventual breaking of your sub is the entire goal of the scene. Warding, then, becomes essential. Enhances everyone’s fun.”

Dean didn’t speak. He was trying to glean the basic information out of Crowley’s obnoxious droning. He didn’t want to hear the demon snark about Cas’s involuntary responses. Taking a deep breath, he mentally felt around for the large ball of murder buried deep in his gut, readying it to leap forward the instant it had a chance to do something useful. He quickly found it - and clung to it like a lifeline.

“You’ll notice...I’ve included a rather substantial gag in the latest upgrade,” Crowley said to Dean, motioning slightly behind himself where the angel knelt, fully stretched once more. “One of my more observant workers heard the little heart to heart the two of you had. She alerted me to your newly formed vow of chastity. Played back the video so I could hear it myself, in all it’s vapid purity. It was touching. Then it occurred to me...something like that will slow this process down. And I was tempted to be rather upset. But then I thought, ‘Surely, now that Dean is aware that _Castiel_ is the one who’ll suffer if he doesn’t comply, that will change all this. He’s a clever lad. He knows when to take a good deal.’”

Crowley stared at Dean a moment longer, but Dean didn’t look up at him. The demon king sighed and turned halfway so he could see Castiel, as well.

“I certainly hope I’m correct in that assessment, Squirrel.” He pressed the remote, stretching Cas just a little bit more and getting a soft grunt from the angel. “Not only because I have other important matters to attend to...but because it would be a shame for Feathers, here, to suffer through long hours of torment, only to have his favorite human eventually give him the release he so desperately needs anyway. Why prolong the agony?”

Crowley tucked the remote away and pulled out his phone. As soon as Cas saw it, he groaned and closed his eyes.

“The additional warding makes even the most basic setting far more intense,” Crowley said. Cas heard the dreaded _‘whoosh’_ sound and clenched, bracing himself. Seconds later, he began thrashing with everything he had. Then his entire body stiffened and quickly began to shake.

“Muscle fatigue,” Crowley mumbled. He aimed his comments back at Dean. “It’s how we know the warding is working properly.” His phone made another _‘whoosh’._ “And that makes the more advanced settings almost insufferable.”

Cas cried out and thrashed again. He stopped and hung limply for a moment, before his ab muscles began pumping rhythmically, matching each gasp. Then back to thrashing. He looked exactly like he was being periodically electrocuted.

“This is the one we experimented with over the last hour. It’s quite effective on it’s own, but with the additional warding...well, I’m sure you can see how difficult this setting is for him. What we’re watching now is the end stage. He’s already spent the last ten minutes or so being primed.”

Crowley gave the angel his full attention, observing him closely. Dean was watching Cas now, too, trying to understand what Crowley’s new setup was doing to him, even though he was pretty sure he knew the basics already.

“Ah!” Crowley said with satisfaction. He gestured down toward Cas’s cock and the liquid dribbling out of it. The angel let out a long, pitiful wail, followed by a few quiet sobs. “He can refill at an amazing rate.” Crowley shook his head, a subtle, appreciative smile on his face. He looked back over at Dean. “That’s the eighth release in just over an hour. But of course, that’s _just_ from the prostate. It’s a terrible thing, this… Leaves him feeling even more desperate than before. Nothing worse than a ruined finish.”

When he could no longer hold his head up, Cas let it loll back. He looked up at Crowley, miserable and exhausted.

“Yes, Cas, I know,” Crowley soothed, gazing down at him. “It’s awful. Being strung along...brought closer and closer to the one thing you desperately need...only to have your partner snatch the prize away at the last moment. Forcing you to go and find someone else to finish with.” The glint in his eye was unmistakable as he watched Cas’s face. He smiled when he saw understanding in the angel’s expression. “In case you’re wondering...the answer is ‘No. I am never letting that go.’”

Cas grunted and closed his eyes. His breathing had begun to pick up again and he was starting to squirm.

“But you see, Cas,” Crowley continued. He bent down a bit closer to his victim’s ear. “If you just let Dean touch you in that one little spot, you’ll get all the release you need. And then I can let you go. It’s very simple. Just let him take care of you. He already wants to.”

“Don’t talk to him,” Dean said. His voice was quiet and unsettlingly flat. Crowley looked over at him.

“He can easily end all of this.”

“You don’t whisper a deal in his ear while you’re hurting him.” Dean let his gaze drift away from Cas, to lock eyes with the demon king.

Crowley stared back at him for a long moment. Dean still looked just as furious and frustrated as he had throughout this little project, but the hunter’s eyes had glazed over. There was something old and awful there. Haunted. Distant. Borderline insane. Crowley didn’t need an explanation.

“Yes, well...I’ll just direct the rest of my explanation to you and you can...do with the information whatever you like. Right?”

Dean’s expression didn’t change until Crowley straightened back up and took a small step away from Cas. The demon cleared his throat.

“I’ll leave you with this setting.”

_‘Whoosh’_

“It will bring him right to the brink...and keep him there, until _you_ push him over the edge. If, however, you stupidly choose to continue to drag this out, there is one more setting I can use.”  He briefly glanced toward Cas to ensure he was listening, and then turned back to Dean. “It includes the stimulation of the pleasure centers in Cas’s multi-dimensional form or ‘true form’ as he calls it.” He again turned to look at the angel. “You don’t want that, do you Cas?”

Cas’s eyes were huge and his brow had furrowed into an obvious expression of terror. He swallowed very hard, but didn’t respond. Crowley waited a couple of seconds and shrugged, gesturing with his phone.

“No? Yes? Or shall I give you both a demonstration?”

Cas snapped out of it. He shook his head fast and hard, breathing even heavier than before. Crowley glanced down at his phone for just a moment and Cas mewled pathetically.

Crowley looked back at him...annoyed again. “I said the _pleasure_ centers, for God’s sake…” he mumbled the last part, huffing in disgust. “Seriously, Castiel. You have the same emotional reaction to the threat of both pain and pleasure. It’s embarrassing. And it’s also a clear indication that if you don’t receive a proper fuck in the very near future, you’re likely to develop some deeply disturbing sado-masochistic tendencies. Which I, for one, would absolutely love to hear all about.” He smiled sweetly at his former business partner.

There was a momentary pause, while Crowley placed his phone back in his pocket and straightened his jacket. He looked between his two captives...and then sighed.

“Right, then...I’ll leave you to it.” He turned, took two strides and stopped. “Ah! I almost forgot.” He reached into his jacket once again and produced a small bottle of lube. Stepping back, he set it on the floor right next to Cas’s knee. “Enjoy!” He strode casually toward the door, turning back only when he reached the hallway. With a quick hand motion, Dean’s chain unclipped and clattered straight down through the eye hook, onto the floor. Crowley motioned again, and the door banged shut.

When Dean realized he was free, he rose immediately and began to move toward Cas. But he stopped when the angel looked at him and shook his head.

“I gotta see if I can get you outta this stuff,” Dean said. He was looking Cas over - the initial shock of seeing his friend this way having mostly faded. He’d switched back into escape mode and was focused almost entirely on how he could get Cas out of those restraints.

Cas groaned and squirmed for a moment and then just looked at Dean.

“Lemme just see if I can get your hands loose, ok?” Dean watched his friend’s eyes for some kind of confirmation. He eventually got a resigned nod from the angel.

“Ok,” Dean mumbled, and stepped around behind Cas. He looked very carefully at the shackles and found no lock or hinge of any kind. They appeared completely solid. He sighed. Crowley had used spellwork to seal them. Of course he had. Dean moved his attention to the large padlock connecting the shackles to the ceiling chain. He grabbed onto it with both hands, feeling for weaknesses and turning it all around to see it from every angle.

He felt a warm weight against his belly and looked down. Cas had leaned his head back and was resting it against him, staring up at him while he worked. Dean stared back. “I’m gonna get you outta this.” He felt fingers scrabbling for a hold on his hands and he looked up. Cas’s fingers were free - those awful metal mitts had been removed, and he was trying to grasp at any part of Dean’s hand he could reach, but the intense stretch kept the shackles pulling too hard on his wrists. Dean let go of the lock and let the fingers of both hands interweave with Cas’s. He looked back down at him and felt the cool tingle of Cas’s grace wash over his hands to heal them.

Dean briefly closed his eyes. “You should save your strength. Your, uh...your power, Cas. We’re probably gonna need it to get outta here.”

Cas just continued to stare at him, his fingers holding tight around Dean’s. Then Cas caught his breath and let his eyes flutter closed. His face clenched and he flushed red from the strain.

“Let me see if I can get the ceiling chain loose...or find something to pick the lock,” Dean said. He was still looking down at his friend. Cas nodded and reluctantly let go of Dean’s hands.

A full body shudder rippled through the angel and he squirmed, knees fighting against the bar. His breaths turned into short, quick gasps.

Dean very quickly turned his attention entirely to the chain and the motorized spool on the ceiling. He needed to get Cas’s hands free, somehow. Then Cas could get the rest of the stuff off of his…

He didn’t want to think about that. He hadn’t looked too closely, but he knew there was at least one ring around Cas’s dick, keeping him painfully hard, and he appeared to have another around his balls, too. They were being held up and forward just enough to make it obvious it wasn’t a natural position. Dean had also seen the additional bar pressing against Cas’s belly. It seemed to be attached to the ring at the base of his dick, but Dean hadn’t looked closely enough to know exactly what it was doing. If he could get Cas’s hands free, he wouldn’t have to find out. He could spare him that humiliation. Maybe. If Cas would even know _how_ to get that stuff off by himself.

Dean studied the ceiling, looking for any kind of switch or lever. He saw something that looked like it might be a manual release, but the ceiling was at least twice his height and he had nothing to stand on to try to reach it. Two options immediately came to mind, but neither of them were good. One would require him climbing the chain, which was unlikely, at best, considering the chain was too thin for a good grip. But it would also require him to partially climb Cas, and he figured his friend really didn’t need that right now. The other option would be to use the chain dangling from his own collar to try to slap at the lever or hook around it and pull. Again, though...that was a long shot, and it would likely mean a whole lot of both of them getting beat up by a repeatedly falling and swinging chain. Not ideal.

His focused switched from Cas’s hands to his ankles. If Cas could turn his lower leg enough, he might be able to get out of the thigh cuffs, too. That would at least get him off of his knees. And put some slack in the chain, allowing for some better climbing options.

Of course, Dean knew Crowley was watching. All that son of a bitch would have to do is wait until Cas was standing and just start cranking that chain up again, but at this point, Dean didn’t care. He’d take whatever win he could get and work from there.

He squatted down behind Cas and began his assessment of the ankle cuffs. They were just as impenetrable as the wrist cuffs. The padlock would be equally impossible to defeat without some kind of lock pick.

Next, he looked at the metal band around Cas’s waist. It was no longer balancing loosely on the tops of his hipbones, like before. It was still fixed around his natural waist because it was tighter, now. Much tighter. Dean could see the indentation marks where the band had bitten into Cas’s skin before he’d been stretched. That much pressure had to be uncomfortable.

Dean looked for a lock. A hinge. Any type of weak point. He managed to find a single slide-joint off to the side, but it couldn’t be pried open. The one visible mechanism looked like it was probably for adjusting the tightness of the band. Unfortunately, the head of the ‘screw’ would require a very unique, thin, crescent-shaped tool. Dean had nothing that would work on that.

He sighed, immediately frustrated. Of course Crowley would know how to make escape impossible for Cas. The only thing Dean could do to help his friend at all would be to go around front and try to remove whatever it was keeping his dick hard. And that would serve Crowley’s purposes just fine, he supposed. He’d get a nice video of Dean’s hands fumbling all over Cas’s swollen junk, while the angel writhed at his touch.

Dean’s body immediately reacted to that thought, sending an aching pulse through his lower abs and right into his groin. He grit his teeth and forced himself to think about something else. Happily, his mind supplied a very sharp image of standing over Crowley’s corpse, clutching an angel blade dripping with the demon’s blood. Good enough.

Dean refused to give up on the waist band. There had to be something else on the over-sized shackle...especially since it could expand and contract by such a large amount. The thing had fit Cas’s natural waist before. It was tiny, now. It had to be at least partially hollow to let one side slip into the other. Though he couldn’t figure out how it would bend that much and still seem so rigid.

He pressed the tips of his middle fingers to the back of the band, on either side of the adjusting screw. Curling them slightly, he let both fingernails slowly slide along the surface of the band, from the back toward the sides, feeling for any unseen imperfections or joints.

Cas was hiding his responses well, but Dean could feel him trembling through the metal and his breathing sounded tense...almost frightened. Dean intentionally slowed his own breathing, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. He could not let himself acknowledge what he was feeling...or the warm, firm body less than an inch from his fingertips.

There was a slight sheen of sweat forming on the angel’s skin and this close, Dean could smell him - the familiar scent of his friend bringing with it an intense desire to wrap his arms around the angel and bury his face in the groove between his shoulderblades. To breath in his scent. Kiss along his spine. Let his hands glide over Cas’s belly, chest, and upraised arms. It was overwhelming. Infuriatingly tempting. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek.

Dean desperately hoped Cas had his mind reading abilities turned off. He could live with his own private shame and guilt. He’d had enough practice. But he couldn’t live with Cas knowing his best friend, the man he loved, was creeping on him while he was this vulnerable. It would be a terrifying revelation for anybody, but especially so for an _angel_ , who’d gotten laid _once_ , probably badly, by some reaper asshole who’d then sliced him up and murdered him. Dean could _not_ let Cas’s _second_ sexual experience be as fucked up as his first one.

He shook his head mournfully and swallowed a lump in his throat. Who was he kidding? Cas was chained, gagged and essentially naked in a dungeon, with an enormous forced-boner and a mojo-proof prostate massager shoved up his ass. The ship had definitely sailed on that goal already. But Dean would absolutely not allow his own bullshit to make it a whole lot worse.

When his fingers reached the sides of the band, Dean began dragging the nails of his two fingers along the same path toward the back of the band, double checking that he hadn’t missed any creases or joints. Cas made a small sound and Dean looked up. As soon as he did, a couple of his fingertips accidentally made contact with Cas’s skin, sliding a few millimeters before Dean caught his mistake.

The shiver that ran through Cas’s body would have been enough, but the muffled, involuntary sounds the angel made had Dean back up on his feet immediately, wincing and taking a few steps away from him. He dragged both hands through his hair and then clasped them behind his head turning to look away from his friend.

He took a few more steps, wandering, trying to get himself together. Another set of muffled sounds came from Cas. And then more sounds...louder this time. Dean realized something might be wrong and turned around. As he did, the long chain extending from his own collar dragged lightly over the bottoms of Cas’s bare feet. Cas shuddered, curling his toes and trying to wiggle his feet away from the sensation.

“Shit!” Dean scrambled to move the chain away from Cas entirely. He mentally kicked himself and quickly pulled up the whole length of chain, wrapped it around his waist and tucked the end between the coils, then moved to stand next to his friend.

Cas continued to twitch his feet, curling his toes, like the sensation was still lingering and he couldn’t stand it.

Dean squatted and pressed his thumbs into the arches of both of Cas’s feet. He curled his hands to cup the midsoles and squeezed. Cas shuddered and then relaxed his feet a bit.

“That better?” Dean asked. Cas nodded. “Ok…” Dean blew out a breath and looked up at Cas’s back. There was an enormous amount of warding inked onto his skin. It was all done in an odd shade of dark blue. Not the typical tattoo color for simple designs. A couple of the symbols looked just slightly smeared, and that let him know they actually were just ink. Simple temporary tattoos that had been pressed against his skin to stain it. That was good news. At least Cas hadn’t had to suffer through that much needlework. And they weren’t permanent. They wouldn’t have to hurt him to remove them. Unfortunately, they wouldn’t just wipe off. As with any hand stamp at a bar or club, those marks would be there for a day or two, at least.

It was difficult to make out what all of the warding did. There were hundreds of Enochian runes buried within numerous warding sigils. Each sigil appeared to be interlocked with another, like some kind of connect the dots puzzle in a seriously fucked up children’s magazine.

The warding continued across Cas’s shoulders and then up along both arms. The arm designs were far more artistic in form. Long tendrils made of tiny, intricate symbols snaked along the lines of muscle, dipping into the bicep furrows, appearing to almost lick at the insides of his elbows. It would have been truly beautiful under other circumstances. Dean tried not to dwell on that thought, because next he let his gaze drift downward, following the lines of warding below the waist. Like his arms, the tendrils of letters became more artistic, as they trailed further away from the main warding on his back. They flowed downward along the lines of muscles, tracing the curves and furrows of Cas’s ass, hips and thighs like long fingers, accentuating everything perfectly.

At this point, Dean realized he was being played. Warding needed to be functional and correct. The only reason it would be applied this elegantly was for Dean’s benefit. It was just another way to tempt him...and God help him, it was working. Cas was stunning.

As if Fate herself was still holding a grudge, before he could force himself to look away, Dean saw a single bead of sweat coalesce near the bottom of the waist restraint and slowly make its way downward along Cas’s spine. It somehow diverted just above the crack of his ass and trailed along the curve of one beautifully formed check, closely following a tendril of warding.

Dean realized if he didn't move, change focus and get away from his current position immediately, there was no way he'd be able to keep his promise to his friend. He swallowed hard, once again, and forced his gaze upward toward Cas’s shoulder.

“This is…” Dean cleared his throat and got his mind back on track. “This is a lot of warding, Cas.” His hope that Cas would be able to use his power to help them escape was quickly fading. He stood and walked around to Cas’s front.

Cas immediately reacted. He stared up at Dean with wide eyes and when Dean looked down at him, the angel shook his head ‘no’.

“I won’t do anything, I just…” Dean started, but Cas was shaking his head much more violently. He groaned through the gag in what sounded like an attempt to speak, but Dean couldn’t make out a single syllable. The gag was more than just a metal band wrapped around the lower half of his head. It sounded like there was something inserted into Cas’s mouth, holding his tongue down. The way his cheeks were puffed out, it had to be something fairly big. “Cas let me see if I can just get some of this off of you.”

Cas looked extremely upset. He was barking whatever he was trying to say, now, so Dean put up his hands and took a step backward. Cas stopped yelling at him, but he was squirming and grunting again. The metal links on the thigh cuffs clinked against the spreader bar as his leg muscles shook.

“Can I at least try to get the cuffs off your thighs?” Dean asked. He was starting to sound just as miserable as Cas.

Again, Cas shook his head. His eyes were closed and he was very obviously trying to control his breathing...slowing it to try to calm himself.

Dean gave up. He shook his head and dragged a hand down over his face. “Yeah, ok,” he said, mostly to himself.  He was standing a couple of feet in front of Cas. He slowly squatted down, resting his butt on one heel. “Look...I, uh...I’m...I just need...I’m gonna get a good look at all this, ok? Just...close your eyes for a minute, Cas.”

Cas shook his head violently.

“I’m not gonna do anything. I’m not. I just need to...look...and I can’t…look...if you’re...lookin’ at me lookin’.” Dean rolled his eyes at his own train-wreck of a sentence and glanced up at Cas’s face. The angel was squinting at him, confused. Of course he was.

Dean sighed heavily and let his own eyes close. “Please just close your eyes, Cas.” He waited a moment. When he opened his eyes again, Cas’s were closed.

 _‘He trusts you,’_ the little voice in Dean’s head whispered. _‘Idgit.’_ He let out a single huff. He couldn’t figure out why his inner voice had become Bobby at least half the time, in the past few months. It was strange...like some sort of switch had been thrown and his mental dialog had decided it was time to start processing his surrogate father’s death. _‘Or maybe you’re just gettin’ old, son,’_ Bobby chided. _‘Your inner voice wants to match. That sulphur-stinkin’, Johnny Cash wanna-be mighta been right.’_

Dean spent a moment just looking at Cas’s face. Lines and creases had formed and deepened over the years...not just from the aging of his vessel, Dean knew. The bright-eyed, indomitable, terrifying creature that had strolled toward him through the onslaught of gunfire in that barn years ago had slowly faded. It was still the same face. The same fierceness and intensity...but there were cracks in the varnish, now. The weight of his time spent on Earth...fighting alongside the Winchesters...was taking it’s toll.

Dean smiled in spite of it all. He wondered if he’d ever be able to convince Cas that the damage and the weaknesses and all the mistakes had only served to make him more beautiful - that given a choice between this Cas and the version that had strolled through those barn doors, shining with all the glory of Heaven, Dean would pick this one every time.

He took a deep breath and let it out. He let himself feel sentimental for a few brief moments longer, then nodded and went back to work.

It was impossible to know exactly where Crowley’s cameras were. There was too much equipment hanging all over the ceiling to see them all. Only two cameras were obvious. Knowing Crowley, though, Dean was sure there’d be one for every possible angle. If nothing else, the son of a bitch was thorough.

Dean examined each piece of ‘equipment’ they’d put on the angel from every angle. It would have been better if he could have examined it all up close, but...this would have to do. He leaned to the side, dropping down onto both knees and crawling a couple of ‘steps’, trying to get a decent view of the bar extending down from the waist restraint. He could definitely see the shape of it better from this angle, but it still didn’t make a lot of sense...until Cas twitched his lower abs. Dean groaned.

In the video, two doms took turns using all manner of toys and implements to slowly drive the chained sub crazy. It didn’t take long for them to reduce the guy to a quivering, begging mess, willing to do anything to get one of them to touch the rest of his dick. The doms had focused their attention only on the base, completely neglecting the rest of his length. The guy said afterward, in the little interview section, that the toughest part was being so close...all it would have taken was a single touch on the tip of his dick and he’d have come. He’d been desperate for that touch, because without it, no matter how much the doms stroked and played with the base, it was never enough.

Apparently, Crowley had paid very close attention. Since there was no one in this recreated scene to actively torment Cas, the demon had gotten creative. The bar was curved inward in such a way that every time Cas tensed or even twitched his lower abs, the bar tilted forward, causing the ring around the base of his dick to slide along the first inch or so...but no further.

Dean let his eyes close again and he dragged his hand down his face.

Cas began clenching rhythmically. The pulses were strong and the movement of the ring sent shock waves through his whole body. Dean watched closely, hoping to figure out some pattern that he might use in...some way to...maybe help Cas? He really didn’t see how, but...he couldn’t give up. Not yet.

“Ok,” Dean said. It was very quiet and Cas looked over at him. The angel would likely have groaned or closed his eyes in reaction to the disheartened look on his friend’s face, but he was too busy squirming again and the quiet sounds he was making had Dean up and walking away from him very quickly.

Dean said nothing more. Instead, he tried to override everything he was thinking a feeling by attempting to open the prison door. The interior mechanism was an electronic eye, mostly buried in the solid stone wall. It wasn’t going to be easily or quickly extracted for hot-wiring purposes. Unfortunately, that was the only mechanism on the inside of the room. The hinges, door edges and locking bolts were all buried behind a solid stone doorframe.

Giving up on the door, he began making a painstaking tour of the room, looking for anything he could fashion into some kind of lock pick. He found nothing and turned his attention back to the ceiling. There were quite a few chains and gears and pulleys mounted up there. None of them looked like they had any parts small enough to use as a pick. The only option left was to try to hook and pull the release lever on the spool above Cas’s head. He knew it was a long shot.

“I got one more thing I can try, Cas,” Dean said. He walked back over to the angel’s side, still keeping his eyes trained on the ceiling. “I can almost guarantee this chain’ll ‘ve beat the hell out of one or both of us by the time I’m done, though.” He glanced down at his friend, hoping to catch something in his face that would be an acknowledgement or agreement, but Cas was actually writhing, now. His head was rolling from side to side, pressing against the underside of each arm almost rhythmically, in time with his twitching abs. He was clearly frustrated and trying to move in any way that would give him some kind of relief. Dean’s heart sank and he looked back at the ceiling.

“Ok,” Dean said, lining up for the first try. “Here goes.” He partly swung, partly threw the chain toward the ceiling. It barely grazed the spool and fell heavily on the floor next to Cas. Dean blew out a breath and pulled the chain up, readying for another shot. He tried again, harder this time, with more swing than throw. The chain struck the side of the spool and then fell straight down. Dean did his best to keep as much of it from hitting Cas as possible, but he missed most of it. The chain slapped the back of Cas’s head, and then slid down the angels side, pulling a cry and a shiver from him. Dean rushed to pull the chain away. He cursed under his breath then instinctively reached out and put a hand on Cas’s arm which made Cas flinch. Dean jerked his hand away and cursed again. He backed away from his friend and regrouped for a moment. Taking a deep breath and letting it out, he lined up another swing and sent the chain hard toward the spool. The last link on the chain slid between the ceiling and the spool, turned sideways, and stuck. Dean pulled. It didn’t move.

“No...no, no, no,” he muttered. He pulled again and it still wouldn’t move. “Shit!”

Cas tried to lean his head back to see why Dean was upset, but another wave hit him and he quickly lost interest.

“Uh…” Dean said, sounding more than a little nervous. He shook the chain in every direction, trying to get it loose.

A soft crackle from above broke the relative quiet.

“It’s as though being obstinate is it’s own reward with you two.”

“FUCK OFF!” Dean began moving in a wide circle, tugging at the chain every couple of steps, hoping the change of angle would set it free. It didn’t.

Crowley sighed and the speaker clicked off.

Dean sent a series of large pulses through the chain. Right as he was finishing the last one, the motor on the spool engaged, turning it forward a few millimeters and then back the same amount. The chain immediately loosened and slid free. The pulses caused it to wrap around the chain connected to Cas’s arms, and Dean scrambled to try to catch it, but he wasn’t fast enough. The chain from Dean’s collar slid down Cas’s arms, his torso, his ass and the backs of his thighs, but at least five pounds of chain slapped down hard across his dick.

Cas screamed and Dean removed the chain as quickly and as gently as he possibly could. He looked back at his friend, wincing a silent apology, but Cas didn’t even seem to have the energy to be pissed at him. The look is his eyes was one hundred percent misery. The angel groaned, letting his head loll back.

“Cas,” Dean whispered. His friend didn’t answer.

After a long moment, Dean sat down a few feet in front of Cas. He made sure to keep the distance large enough that there was no way anyone would think he was fondling or stimulating Cas in any way, no matter what angle Crowley wanted to use. With a long, heavy sigh of defeat, he braced himself for what he knew was about to be the most soul-crushingly uncool, painful, and shamefully erotic viewing of his favorite porno he'd never wanted to see.

 


	4. Seriously Reconsidering the Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was not how sex was supposed to feel.  
> Cas was sure of that.  
> He'd had sex. Once. Well...twice, that one night.  
> It's supposed to feel good.  
> This... did not feel good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HazelDomain has officially declared this a sex scene.  
> Therefore, I am inordinately proud to announce... Here is my first ever sex scene!  
> *squeals*  
> I'm so freakin' proud, you guys! (even though nobody has an orgasm or touches anyone else's dick. Eh...baby steps.)

 

 

The whiskey was superb - rich and smokey, clinging like a thin sheen of honey to the smooth sides of the glass as he lightly swirled. The glow from the numerous display monitors, and the artificial light somehow made the amber color of the thirty year old liquor even more inviting. The demon-king hated the thought that someday the last bottle of this glorious nectar will have been consumed. He was certain, now, that he’d survive long enough to see that day. He’d seriously questioned that several times recently, but after miraculously dodging so many massive threats to his existence, he was convinced he was meant to stay among the living. He didn’t know why...nor did he care.

At the moment, he was enjoying some of the perks of the physical realm. One, of course, was the taste, smell and delicious burn of his beverage. The other was playing out on the video feeds in front of him. He had nearly every angle covered and could tilt or zoom at will. Having access to such high quality equipment was always a boon, especially at somewhat short notice, and he knew now that no matter how his plan turned out, he’d have a fun little video he could sell, barter...or maybe just keep for himself. There were always times when he needed a laugh. These two had already provided several. And also, he enjoyed watching Dean just be...Dean.

The fact that the two stars of the show were taking an enormously long time to do anything really fun was only a mild annoyance. He’d assumed they wouldn’t take the bait right away. It was almost a foregone conclusion that Castiel would fight to preserve some naive sense of virtue. Dean, on the other hand, was a wild card. He’d either get pissed and dig his heels in or he’d crack almost immediately and start grinding against any part of the angel he could reach. Either response would make for a good show.

Watching Dean now, Crowley almost regretted the warding that turned off Cas’s ability to read minds. He could imagine all the angst-filled carnal thoughts swirling inside that dark blonde braincase. He’d have loved to have watched Cas’s reaction.

Dean’s struggle became deliciously obvious every time the angel made another of those frustrated little noises. Crowley was certain Cas had no idea how wanton and filthy he sounded. Nor did the angel realize that the more he tried to stifle them, the hotter they got. Dean kept squeezing his own hair in his fist, tighter and tighter, trying to block it all out, but he couldn’t and eventually, he’d begun to visibly squirm. When the hunter took off his flannel shirt and tried to nonchalantly use it to shield his crotch, Crowley grinned. Things were progressing as planned. He’d only needed to prime the pump, after all. Dean wouldn’t be able to hold out for long afterward. He’d convince Cas, one way or another.

Crowley’s phone buzzed in his pocket. A text. He sighed, immediately irritated. His current  business partners’ constant, anxiety-filled badgering was becoming almost intolerable.

 

    ‘What r u doing???’

    ‘U r supposed 2 make it STOP!’

 

Crowley sighed again, sucking at his teeth and considering whether or not to respond at all. This was the third little conniption fit they’d thrown since he’d awakened his two captives a couple of hours ago. They were killing the mood entirely.

The angels didn’t give him time to decide.

 

   ‘THIS IS URGENT!!!’

 

Crowley shook his head and began to type.

 

   ‘Will be over soon. 2-3 hrs at most.’

 

The dots let him know the angels had begun typing a reply immediately.

 

    ‘3 HOURS???’

    ‘U don’t understand’

    ‘IT’S SO LOUD!!!’

 

    ‘Patience. These things take time. Almost done.’

 

    ‘WE CAN’T HEAR OURSELVES THINK!!!’

 

    ‘Nor can I, if you keep pestering me. Will contact you soon.’

 

Crowley stuck the phone back in his pocket and ignored the next 20 or so buzzes. These angels were ridiculous. It definitely made him appreciate his double-crossing former business partner a bit more. At least Cas _attempted_ to keep his shit together during stressful events.

He checked the time, then leaned back in his chair, his attention once again drawn to the show on the video displays. He tried to decide which angle he liked best and finally settled on the one that showed Cas in the foreground and Dean in the background. It gave him a great view of the lines of warding. He grinned, very satisfied by the way those vining strings of sigils rippled and moved when the angel flexed the muscles of his vessel. Taking another delicious sip from his glass, he slowly loosened his tie and reached over to turn on the small console fan.

 

* * *

 

Cas...was struggling. He knew what sex was supposed to feel like - how his vessel would respond to the eventual release... the explosion of pleasure throughout his nervous system; the resulting flood of endorphins, calming every nerve and muscle; the mild euphoria.

In essence, the way sex felt was the exact opposite of what he was currently experiencing. He now understood why the man in Dean’s video had begged so pitifully for one of his tormentors to touch him...to let him come. Cas had partially understood when he’d watched it, of course, but in his experience with April, he hadn’t needed to chase his orgasm at all. Not the first time, anyway. The second time was a little more of a challenge, but...things had still progressed in a pleasurable fashion.

This experience, however, was radically different. Cas felt like his lower belly and groin had be replaced with some alien living thing that had latched onto his vessel’s nervous system and was sending out wave after wave of clawing, aching need. He couldn’t even isolate it to one body part. His groin was the focal point, of course, but he also felt a crawling sensation that seemed to strike various parts of his body independently. Like some kind of rolling power surge. His thighs. His lower legs and feet. His forearms. He could give himself mild relief in these areas if he clenched the muscles as tightly as possible until the sensation abated somewhat. But then he’d feel it in his scalp...or the hollow of his throat...and he wanted to scream.

He spent several, dedicated minutes rhythmically pulsing his abs and jerking his hips as hard as he could, trying to force the stimulation the metal ring was placing on just the base of his dick to trigger an orgasm. It didn’t work. It did, however, completely and utterly wear out the muscles of his thighs, stomach and ass. In the end, he was left hanging by his arms with almost no support from his lower body. The glistening sheen of sweat that had lightly covered his skin before was now huge drops and rivulets. He let his head drop forward, exhausted, and the sweat freely dripped from his nose, his chin, his hair… Large beads ran down his arms, legs, chest and back, tickling skin and body hair along the way and making the crawling sensation that much worse.

When several large droplets made their way down his lower belly, worked their way through and around the trail of hair, slid past his groin and then rolled slowly down his inner thighs, Cas finally lost it. He threw his head back and let out a full-throated primal scream, pulling and writhing and jerking against his restraints as hard as he possibly could.

The release of frustration...the exertion...the fatigue...they all helped just a bit to take the edge off, and when he was done, and he hung heavily and breathlessly from his wrists, he felt a tiny amount of relief.

And that’s when the device inside of him turned back on.

Cas screamed again, this time without the rage. It was pure misery, now, and he resumed his struggle against the bindings. He was almost completely worn out. Most of his movements were useless, and they seemed to just make everything ache more.

The device pulsed and vibrated. It pushed and turned...expanded and contracted. It knew exactly what kind of stimulation to produce and where, to send him completely out of his mind. There was no defense against it. If he clenched his core muscles, it caused one type of escalating sensation. If he relaxed them, another, deeper arousal took over. Both sensations worked in tandem to effectively narrow the focus of his entire existence onto the tip of his vessel’s dick.   

With the last of his strength, he tried again to use the pulsing of his abs and the stroking of the metal ring to bring about an orgasm, while the thing inside of him was active. He even tried thrusting in rhythm to force his dick to bob, hoping he could get it to swing high enough to hit himself in the stomach with just the tip. But, apparently, Crowley’s little R&D squad had thought of that, too. The metal bar with the ring at the end was positioned in such a way that it kept Cas’s dick sticking out at about a forty-five degree angle. And he was so hard, there wasn’t enough flexion for him to get more than ten or so degrees of movement in any direction.

The device increased it’s pulsing. For a few moments, Cas thought he might finally have it. He might have worked out just the right position...just the right combination of tight muscles versus relaxed muscles that would let him build all the way to a full release. He held his breath and focused, feeling the build, feeling the promise, relishing the slow tightening of his scrotum and balls, even in their trapped condition. He was almost there...almost...almost…

And the device turned itself off.

Cas started to cry.

“Cas,” Dean whispered. “Please.”

There was a long pause, as Cas considered it, once again. In the end, he looked at his friend, blinked a few more tears out of his eyes and slowly shook his head, ‘no.’

The overhead speaker crackled to life with the sound of Crowley’s very heavy sigh.

“As I said…” he paused to sigh again. He sounded thoroughly annoyed. “There’s one last setting I can use.”

Dean curled his fingers tighter into his own hair, leaning his elbows on his knees. He looked at Cas. Cas looked back.

“Your angelic pleasure centers, Castiel. Is that really what you want?”

Cas swallowed and closed his eyes. He didn’t respond otherwise.

Dean slumped further. He knew he had nothing left. No more bargaining chips. He couldn’t help him. He was essentially useless. It was all up to Cas, now.

“Five seconds, Cas… Four… Three… Two… One…” The _‘whoosh’_ sound came across the speaker loud and clear.

Cas made a single, tiny whimpering sound, then balled his hands into fists and lightly shook. He had his eyes tightly shut.

Dean watched him. He expected all manner of awfulness to happen. He just wasn’t sure what it would be. Moments later, he found out. And he’d definitely been right to expect drama.

Cas’s entire vessel twitched like a wild animal caught in a snare. Dean heard the creak of the metal hoist keeping Cas stretched...and he saw that thick, steel spreader bar actually flex a little from the strength of Cas’s pull. He felt a strong impulse to cover his eyes and duck, expecting bits of concrete to go flying any minute now.

He was glad that he’d had that instinct when just a few seconds later, Cas began to glow and the overhead lights started blowing out one by one. The air in the room began to swirl and gusts of wind sprang from seemingly nowhere. A camera exploded and it’s lens fell off, clacking loudly onto the floor. Two more lights blew… And then it all suddenly stopped.

Dean listened carefully as camera motors engaged, reorienting themselves. He assumed Crowley’s little team was trying to compensate for the one or more that had been destroyed.  He was able to identify the positions of five additional cameras. At least he knew where they were, now. Maybe he could break every last damned one of them.

He looked at Cas, noting the lack of movement, other than the exhausted breathing. The angel’s head was hanging back, completely limp. He looked like he had almost zero muscle tone in his entire vessel. Dean rose and walked in a wide circle around him, just trying to make sure he wasn’t badly hurt or dying or...who knew what had just happened to him.

Footsteps in the hallway. The _‘shick’_ of the card reader, and the door quickly swung open.

Crowley stepped inside and Dean immediately rushed him. He made it all of two steps before the demon king motioned with his hand and sent the hunter and his chain clattering into the far wall.

Once again, Crowley sighed. This time he said nothing other than a brief, ‘manete’ to immobilize the angel for transport. He motioned for the two hench-demons to get Cas and bring him.

Crowley stepped back into the hallway and was staring daggers at both the angel and the human. When the demons had removed Cas, Crowley continued to glare at Dean. He made a very obvious move to look at his watch and sighed in disgust. Then he shook his head at the hunter and strolled away from the door, slamming it shut with a motion of his hand. Dean was released from the hold and slid down the wall, staring at the door in defeat.

 


	5. Fuck the Plan! It Was A Lousy Plan.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When dealing with Crowley, expect the unexpected. Dude is never playing just one angle.

 

 

Crowley finished a somewhat extensive texting session and then slipped his phone back in his pocket. He looked up at all of the demons staring at him and sighed.

The demons had finished mounting Cas face down on the workbench in the laboratory and were just standing around, waiting for instructions and passing the time with crude jokes about the numerous erotic uses for feathers.

“If all of you would step outside…” he coaxed. “I’ll just have a little a word with our angelic kill-joy. Won’t be a minute. So don’t go far.” He stood with his hand holding the door open, waiting impatiently for the last of the demons to walk out. All of them were snickering and looking back at the angel one more time before they left.

Crowley rolled his eyes as he pushed the door shut and locked it. He was sick of demons. They were all so boring, after a while. Even the ones that weren’t useless were just...draining. They lacked imagination. _Everything_ had to be about evil and cruelty and torture. None of them seemed to be able to appreciate real beauty at all. Or the craftsmanship of a finely worked plan.

He was grateful he’d at least been able to find a skilled henna artist among the damned. She’d managed to use the ink to paint Crowley’s warding designs onto the angel perfectly, and in a startlingly short amount of time. The demon-king had been impressed. And quite pleased. She, of course, would be one of those he’d save at the end of all of this. She’d already completed her last assignment and had joined the other five worthwhile demons in the control room, where they were waiting to be evacuated.

The rest of the demon-rabble that littered the halls of this facility could take their chances with the hunters and the angel. They weren’t worth saving. It’s why he’d chosen them. He needed working bodies for a short time. After that, well… Cas deserved a chance to use his grace to take out an entire throng of demons. He hadn’t been able to do that in a while. Crowley thought it might be cathartic for him. Build his ego a bit. And it would serve the demon-king’s purposes well if the seraph did it right in front of Dean. Nothing gets a damsel’s libido going like watching his hero take out the enemy with an overwhelming display of power and dominance. That’s just a given.

His phone chimed and Crowley’s face fell just slightly as he quickly reached into his jacket to retrieve it. The simple note on the display told him he had just over five minutes, before a speeding, black impala would loudly breach the perimeter of the compound. He needed to get this moving along.

He sent another very quick text, then again pocketed his phone and turned his full attention to Cas.

Crowley smiled as he looked him over. The laboratory was brightly lit and the dark ink of the warding tendrils contrasted marvelously against Cas’s lightly tanned skin. It was a good design. Very sexy. He was proud of himself.

He grabbed the small cordless screwdriver and gently placed the attachment into the lock on the back of the metal band around Cas’s waist. The motor whirred and the band expanded until it once again loosely fit Cas’s natural waist.

Cas was still immobilized by the spell, but Crowley saw him halt his breathing for a moment, anticipating the worst. Then his breaths became more regular, and they were deeper when he felt the intense constriction release. A deep bruise was forming around his waist. Crowley thought it a shame that it would be gone soon, along with all the lovely art on Cas’s body. That perfect circle would have added a nice symmetry to the lines of warding, once it had darkened.

"Perhaps another time,” Crowley mumbled to himself.

He let his finger glide over one of the tendrils leading from Cas’s waist, up his side and along his arm and when he got to the very end, he sighed. He knew he was out of time.

“You obviously don’t need this anymore,” Crowley said and waved a hand toward the collar. It popped open and he removed it entirely with another flick of his wrist. Then he leaned in much closer, getting right up next to Cas’s ear.

“You’ve done very well, Castiel. Even _I’m_ finding you somewhat irresistible at the moment, and that’s saying something.” He sighed again, clearly thinking. Then he shook his head. “ Alas ...I am a consummate professional. It wouldn’t be prudent for me to indulge. So, instead...I’m about to do you a favor… and tell you _exactly_ what you need to do…”

 

* * *

 

When the door opened again, Dean didn’t bother trying to rush the demons. Instead he moved slowly forward and stood with his feet on either side of the eyebolt in the floor. If they wanted to string Cas up again, they’d have to move him. And he’d do his solid best to brain one or both of them, if they tried. He had the chain from his collar ready in his hand - a short but heavy length to use as a makeshift maul or a whip.

The lead demon stopped, looking at the hunter. He smiled.

“He’ll hang just as well from broken arms. Broken ribs wouldn’t be a problem either, I’m sure.”

Dean flinched. He knew he couldn’t win, but the inaction… It was killing him. The demon continued.

“Or...the boss isn’t here, so...we could just get this party started _for_ you. Show you how it’s done, and then string him back up.” He licked his lips and his smile got much bigger as he reached back and grabbed Cas’s head. He pulled him forward, turning to get the angel’s gagged mouth pressed against his crotch.

Dean immediately stepped back.

“All the way, asshole,” the other demon ordered. Dean grit his teeth and obeyed. Second’s later, Cas was back on his knees and his arms were being slowly hoisted over his head. There was new warding on his chest. Large letters. They weren’t as elegant, but they certainly looked effective. Cas appeared to be at the end of his rope - the way he was writhing and whimpering…

‘Where’s Crowley,” Dean asked blandly.

“Don’t worry about it.” One of the demon’s snapped.

“You just take care of your boyfriend. Crowley’s got his special little toy turned up to eleven, so you should probably get to it before his dick explodes.” He smiled, then dropped it away, giving Dean his most sincere face. “Unless...you want me to do it? I mean...the poor little angel.”

“Shut up,” Dean snarled.

“It must hurt _so bad_ by now. Worst case of blue balls _ever_.”

“Pfft, not just _balls_ ,” the other demon chipped in. “Crowley’s workin’ his angel bits, too. Maybe he’s got blue _wings_?” Both of them laughed and the first demon squatted down next to Cas, letting his hand trace around one rock hard nipple. He gave it a tiny flick and Cas screamed.

“Oooh!” the demon giggled. “Or tail? Whaddya think, little angel? If we make you show us your tail, is it gonna be as blue as those pretty eyes?”

Dean repositioned the chain in his hand and lined up a swing. He'd just begun the movement when the emergency lights flickered and then stayed on and the alarms in the entire compound began to blare. He stopped himself when he saw the demons' reactions.

The demons looked at each other, then the one next to Cas stood and they both looked at Dean. The hunter stared back. He gave up on the attack, when he saw them making a rapid retreat.

“Hey!” Dean shouted after them, then dove toward the door. He didn’t make it in time and it slammed shut, leaving him with Cas still chained and stretched and the alarm mildly deafening them both. He slammed his fist against the door once, before turning and running back to Cas.

The overhead speaker crackled to life.

“Well boys, that’s my cue…” Crowley said. The sarcasm was thick. “Moose and Mother Mary are about to burst in here and unleash all manner of nastiness upon demon-kind, so...our little experiment has come to an end. Congratulations. You’ve both proven yourselves chaste. You’ll forgive me if I skip the award ceremony.”

“Let us OUT, you PIECE 'a SHIT!” Dean screamed at the ceiling.

“No worries, Squirrel...the rest of your clan will be hauling you and your angel out of there soon enough. Unfortunately, my cameras are not set up to run on emergency power so I’ll miss getting to see their faces when they burst in on your little scene. Shame...probably would have been decent footage. Certainly better than you two.” He moved his face away from the microphone and his voice was much duller, almost hard to hear over the alarm. Dean managed to make out just the last part of his sentence. “...dullest porn film in history…”

Dean was ready to start screaming at him, but the speaker clicked off and he could hear the clatter of minor mayhem picking up in the hallway. He made a very quick tour of the cameras he’d located and saw that every one of them was dark. No red lights, no refocusing lenses...they had privacy. Finally.

“Cameras are off, Cas,” Dean said. He rushed over and squatted down in front of his friend, reaching up to grab his face. “Let me help you,” he nearly begged. “I’ll take this stuff off and then you can, uh...ya know… you’ll feel better.” He winced, knowing how lame that sounded. He had no idea why he suddenly found it so difficult to say ‘have an orgasm.’ Normally, he had a whole arsenal of slang terms and euphemisms to call upon. But no. ‘You’ll feel better.’ That’s all he had right now.

Cas was staring at him, wild-eyed and shaking. He hesitated for all of two seconds before nodding emphatically and then beginning a long tirade of muffled, needy sounds that were making Dean’s job a whole lot easier.

“Ok, just...I’m gonna get this...um...this might not feel great for a second,” he said and then just got to work. He gently worked Cas’s balls out of the rubber ring holding them up. They were swollen and sore and Cas winced, trying to pull away. Dean went as quickly as he could, then slowly lowered them down, once they were free. The rubber ring was part of a figure eight. The other end was what was keeping Cas’s dick hard. Dean could clearly see it, now. The metal ring attached to the curved bar was a separate piece. It had to come off first.

Dean was just barely able to fit his pinky finger between Cas’s belly and the tight band around his waist. It was enough to feel how the bar was attached. Dean grabbed the bar and tilted it up and slightly to the side...enough to release it. It came away easily, and without jarring Cas too much. With one gentle move, he slid the ring off of him.

The friction along his length was just enough and as the ring passed over the head of his dick, Cas’s forcefully came. It shot up and out, striping the front of Dean’s shirt, some of it landing on his neck and a few drops made it all the way over Dean and landed on the hunter’s boot behind him.

Cas wasn’t done. There was quite a bit built up in there. Several more strong pulses each sent out at least half as much volume as the first one had.

As Dean knelt there in front of him, trying very hard to figure out the appropriate etiquette in response to being suddenly covered in your best friend’s come, he realized how much height Cas had gotten on that first pulse. It was pretty damned impressive. He just barely pursed his lips and nodded his appreciation, before shaking himself out of that and paying attention to the desperate-looking angel in front of him.

“Better?” Dean asked. He could see the answer before Cas gave it. Those blue eyes were still just as wild as they had been, just bleary with tears and bloodshot. Snot was starting to run out of Cas’s nose and Dean could hear his breathing being slightly restricted by it. He reached up and pinched Cas’s nose, stripping his fingers downward and clearing out the goo. He winced, but just barely. He already had far more of Cas’s body fluid on him. A little snot certainly wasn’t going to kill him.

Cas began jerking his hips forward and let his head fall back. He was moaning and whimpering again.

“Again? You need to…?” Dean asked, already reaching down. Cas’s head jerked back up and he nodded vigorously.

“Ok,” Dean said. He wasn’t bothering to hide the anxiety in his voice. He just wanted to make all of this stop. And he’d realized immediately when Crowley had announced the arrival of Sam and Mary that it might be best if Cas didn’t have the world’s biggest, most obscene boner when they busted in and started picking the locks. So, the first order of business was to get that beast to relax and lie down.

He also realized he hadn’t gotten the rubber ring off of him yet, so he got to work, slowly tugging and sliding the ring down his length. Dean had enough come on his hand to lube the ring’s way.

Cas squirmed and grunted and occasionally thrusted, trying to get more friction. As soon as the ring was off, Dean wrapped his hand around the shaft and began stroking him. He’d only made a couple of passes before Cas’s sounds turned pained. He looked up at him and saw his face twisted up.

“What, it hurts?” Dean asked. Cas nodded emphatically.

Dean looked closely and noticed thin red scratches on Cas’s dick. He stared for a moment, wondering if they’d been jerking him during those warding session, but then he looked at his own hands. He winced. In the time since Cas had healed him, he’d managed to rip open some of his callouses again. Hard, sharp edges of skin lined the insides of all of his fingers and several sections of his palms. A handjob was officially out of the question.

He looked up at his friend’s face and hesitated for all of one second before dipping down low and lining himself up for a nice, full service blow job. He figured this might be Cas’s first one, and god dammit, he was gonna make it good. Cas deserved it.

So, first things first...lightly lick and then suckle the head. See what happens. Cas was already hard, so he might…

He didn’t have time to finish that thought. Cas came hard and fast, once again, unloading a truly impressive amount of come into Dean’s mouth, before the man could instinctively back off. It’s not that he wouldn’t swallow. That wasn’t a problem. He just usually expected to have at least some warning.

The thick fluid spilled down his chin and he wiped clumsily at it with his sleeve before looking at Cas with a somewhat encouraging grin. He reached up and pat his friend’s bare hip, letting his hand rest there and giving it gentle squeezes as Cas clenched through the last waves of his orgasm. This one was much shorter than the first one had been and Cas seemed very agitated immediately after the last pulse.

Dean stared at him wide-eyed. His gaze went from Cas’s face, to his dick, back to his face several times before he wrinkled his brow and blinked at him.

“Seriously?” Dean asked. He knew Crowley had said angels could recover quickly, but this was crazy. “I, uh...yeah, ok,” Dean stammered. He leaned back down and opened wide, taking as much of Cas in as he could and wrapping his fingers around the base. He tried to ignore the fact that his hand was covered in come and he was getting even more of it on his face each time his fingers came in contact. He didn’t care. But he did realize he had no chance of being even remotely discrete about any of this anymore. Mom and Sam were gonna know. Immediately.

Cas moaned, deep and erotic, and Dean felt it go straight to his own groin. He absolutely hated that they were doing this here...like this...but damn Cas sounded great. And looked even better. Dean managed to glance up at him while his mouth worked him over, and the look Cas was giving him was nothing shy of predatory. His eyes conveyed the promise of every filthy thing Dean had ever dreamed of doing with him and much, much more.

He realized he was almost as close as the angel was, and he was tempted to reach down and rub himself a little, but he didn’t want it to distract him from taking care of Cas. They probably only had a few more minutes before help would arrive. And he was going to give Cas the very best he could until then.

He was just slightly distracted by a low groan from the door...like metal being slowly distorted. But he dismissed it.

One second later, the door was torn completely off of it’s frame and hurled down the passageway.

Dean’s eyes went very, very wide as he took in what he was seeing. Small pieces of stone and mortar rained down and the thin cloud of powder made the figure in the open doorway nothing more than a shadowy outline in the dim red glow of the emergency lights.

Even so, Dean recognized him immediately...and he froze.

“Dean!” Cas moved quickly into the cell, still checking every direction for possible traps. He trotted toward his friend, stopping just inside the circle of illumination from the single overhead emergency light.

Dean...had not moved at all. He could see the intruder clearly, now. It was definitely Cas. He was still wearing nothing but his dark trousers and the metal band around his waist, but he was otherwise unbound and unmarked. He was also armed to the teeth, angel blade in one hand and a sawed-off shotgun in the other. An ammo belt covered in extra shells crossed his chest and he had a large knife and Dean’s demon blade tucked into it.

“We need to... move...” Cas let his voice trail off as he took in the scene. He stood staring for a moment, then let his gaze settle on Dean’s face. He squinted...and slowly tilted his head.

It took very little time for Dean to register the glaring logical problem in this situation. His eyes flicked from the squinting angel to the tuft of crotch hairs less than an inch away from the tip of his nose...then back.

In the dim light, the blue flash in the eyes of this ‘rescuer’ made a very compelling case for him being the real Castiel. The fact that the ‘rescuer’ then sighed in annoyance and actually rolled his eyes, while they were still glowing removed all doubt.  

Dean looked back at the crotch he was currently servicing. Slowly...very slowly...he pulled off...as though the dick were a bomb that might explode and kill them all if he moved too quickly.

In a radically ineffective attempt to be cool about all of this, once his mouth was fully his own again, Dean sighed and said, “Huh.” He then sniffed and reached up to wipe the excess sweat and spit off his face with his hand. He’d made it halfway through that move before he realized his hand was still covered in spit and quite a bit of come, so he’d basically just covered the top half of his face with it, as well.

He winced and pulled his hand away, but kept his eyes closed. He could feel at least one large glob on his lashes.

He didn’t have more than a second to think, though, before he felt two fingers on his forehead and Cas’s grace completely cleaning and healing his body.  Dean sagged a bit with relief. 

“I assumed you wanted me to do that,” Cas said, a little hesitantly. “Considering the copious amounts of…”

“Yeah, I got it...Cas. It’s fine.” Dean cleared his throat. “Thank you.”

"Are you alright, otherwise?"

"Yes," Dean grunted, blowing off the concern as though it were an annoyance.

Throughout this exchange, Cas’s expression had been slowly changing from confusion to a supremely disapproving scowl. He stepped further around Dean, to get himself in front of the creature. When he saw what was written on it’s chest, he clicked his tongue and smote the demon.

The moment the burst of angelic power left Cas’s palm, the perception spell that made the demon look like Cas failed. Dean stared in mild horror at the burly, shaggy dude he’d just been blowing.

“I specifically asked you not to do that.” Cas said. He barely concealed his irritation.

“Look...I’m sorry! Ok?" Dean barked, letting his defensiveness take over. "I was tryin’a help!" He briefly looked at the dude again...and shuddered.

Cas pulled Dean up by his arm and began transferring some of the weaponry to him. He watched the door as he pulled off the ammo belt.

Dean was still looking at the dude and considering freaking out. Under normal circumstances, he was sure he’d have given it a good, long think and then...yes, freaked the fuck out. However, Cas’s demeanor was tweaking every defensive trigger Dean had and that was somehow directly countering the horror, balancing it into a solid focus on getting them the hell out of there.

Dean took the demon blade and tucked it into his belt, then grabbed the shotgun. He cracked it open and began reloading it as soon as Cas had slung the ammo belt over the hunter’s head.

“We need to move,” Cas said, and headed toward the door. Dean closed and cocked the gun, then followed. He stopped just behind Cas, while the angel checked the corridor, and then they both took off at a light jog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg...this fic is a damned monster! It was supposed to be three chapters long. At most!  
> It will not die. It will not finish.  
> I'm very close to shooting it with rock salt.


	6. Endgame: The Real Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's the King of Hell. Are we really surprised that his idea of 'helpful' is extremely fucked up?
> 
> Also, Cas is seriously hot when he's pissed.

 

 

“If I’d wanted you to do that, I would have agreed much earlier.” Cas snapped over his shoulder, when they paused at the first t-junction in the long corridor. His voice was raised to compete with the alarms.

“I said I’m sorry,” Dean barked. He turned sharply and fired into the demon exiting a room just behind them. It crumpled and he plunged the demon blade into it’s chest. He stood and did a very quick scan, before he and Cas continued down the corridor at a fast trot.

“But, you were miserable…” Dean continued. “And the cameras were off, so I thought… Shit, man...I dunno! I was tryin’a help you!”  

Cas started to reach for the handle to the stairwell door, but a frantic demon opened it from the other side and rushed out. The angel leapt forward, shoving his blade into it’s chest. The demon crumpled and Cas shoved the corpse aside.

“I made you promise because I knew I’d need you to help me keep my resolve.” Cas said as they ran up one flight of stairs. He paused at the stairwell door, looking almost as guilty as Dean. “I knew it wouldn’t be easy for me. I was tempted…”

Cas sighed and glanced through the small window in the door, before turning back to his friend. “Every time I looked at you… But even more so when I saw how unhappy it was making you.”

They stared at each other for a brief moment. Dean closed his eyes and slumped.

There was a commotion on the other side of the door. Cas lightly pushed Dean back. He held out his arm and the door whipped outward with tremendous force, slamming into the two demons who’d been approaching from the other side. Cas charged forward and plunged his blade into the nearest one. He smote the other with his free hand.

Dean blinked. It was still alarming when his friend just threw himself directly at danger. He’d had to teach himself over the years to not immediately jump in and try to defend him. Cas was more than capable of handling himself in a fight.

Cas checked the corridor and motioned for Dean to follow.

The alarms were louder on the main level, making verbal communication almost impossible, so they switched to hand signals. Cas stayed in the lead, clearly having memorized the layout of the place.

Two demons rounded the corner behind them at a full run. Dean shot one round into each of them and they skidded to a halt, doubling over from the shock. It gave him just enough time to close the distance and plunge the demon blade into the first one’s chest, while Cas smote the other one.

Cas turned to look down the adjacent corridor and cocked his head, listening.

“How many,” Dean asked, wiping the blade on the demon’s shirt.

“I’m assuming nearly all of them will try to escape through the main exit,” Cas answered, leaning close to Dean’s ear so he didn’t have to shout. “Thirty five. Forty, maybe.”

Dean looked at him with mild panic and immediately began scanning for some type of cover or defense. Cas leaned in again.

“The building isn’t warded. I have full access to my grace.” He pulled back, staring at his friend to make sure he understood. Dean still looked hesitant, so Cas pointed toward the large double doors at the end of the main corridor. “We’ll get behind the doors. They’ll bottleneck in this corridor. By the time they break through, they should all be close enough.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “What, a _group smiting_? Like that time with Eve?”

Cas nodded once, never breaking eye contact.

“You sure you got the juice for that?” Dean pressed.

Cas clenched his jaw and stood. He glared at his friend.

“I was just- ” Dean began, partially raising both arms in appeasement, but Cas huffed in disgust and turned, motioning for him to follow. The angel took off down the main corridor, toward the exit.

Dean sighed and groaned at the same time and chased after him, staying close on his heels. “I was just askin’!” he finally yelled. Cas ignored him.

Dean shot three more demons who bolted into the corridor ahead of them, trying to get to the exit. He and Cas quickly dispatched them and then sprinted the rest of the way to the double doors. They could hear the large group of demons approaching from the stairwells and adjoining corridors. As they turned and were pulling the doors closed behind them, Cas motioned with his hand. The three bodies in the corridor slid quietly into a side room, out of view of the approaching demons. Dean looked at him curiously, as they both worked the large bolts that would secure the doors. Cas noticed.

“I don’t want them to sense danger,” he said at a reasonable volume. The alarms weren’t nearly as loud in the foyer. The doors were heavy enough to block most of the sound.

Even with the massive barrier, though, they could hear the throng of demons approaching.

Dean turned and headed toward the exterior door.

“We’re not leaving,” Cas announced. He turned back to the door, readying his blade and determining the best place to stand.

Dean hesitated, looking from Cas to the exit, but then he trotted back to his friend’s side and started fussing with the very loose ammo belt.

“Is there a reason you feel like stickin’ around?” he asked, more than a little worried. He eyed the locked double doors nervously while trying to get fresh shells. He was having trouble getting them out. The belt kept slipping. “Something you’re not tellin’ me?”

Cas turned to answer but saw his friend struggling and moved to help him, instead. He reached behind Dean’s back, tucking his own blade under his arm and using both hands to tighten the ammo belt for a snug fit.

“Crowley is still here,” Cas said, only barely masking his fury. “I can hear his voice.”

Dean looked over his shoulder and met his friend’s eye. The exchange was silent. Dean nodded and turned his focus back on his gun, roughly shoving new shells into the chamber.

“Though I admit...I’m still confused by his actions.” Cas’s brow furrowed. “He _let me go._ ”

“What?” Dean asked. He was surprised enough to stop loading the gun.

Cas turned slightly and nodded. “He removed the collar. Loosened the band at my waist. He even ensured I had access to our weapons. He told me I needed to go and rescue you, and then he poured out an enormous amount of the same ink they’d been using and smeared it across the warding on my skin. Once it sank in and dried, the warding was destroyed. It gave him just enough time to get away before I was free.”

Dean stared at him, completely confused. “What the hell?”

“Exactly. That and the ease of our escape has me suspicious of his real intent.”

“Yeah, that’s not shady at all,” Dean huffed. He eyed the rattling doors and then pushed the next shell into the gun.

“Also, I’ve not yet ascertained the full meaning of the message written on that creature’s chest. I assume it was intended for you.”

The pounding on the doors began in earnest, when the demons on the other side realized they were trapped. It was getting harder to hear. Dean took an instinctive half step backward.

“I dunno. Maybe.” Dean snapped the gun back together and cocked it. “Whaddit say?” He looked back up and found the angel staring at him with a mixture of incredulity and thorough disappointment. It was not a good look. Dean didn’t like it.

After a short pause, Cas answered in an irritatingly neutral tone.

“Your library has thirty eight volumes, covering all three forms of Enochian used in spellwork. I see you haven’t bothered to read a single one of them.”

“I get the job done,” Dean answered flatly, defensive hackles fully raised. “I don’t need to know every damned detail about every weird-ass spell language to do that.”

“That’s true. But if you’d been able to read basic Enochian, you’d have known the writing on that creature’s chest was most certainly not warding of any kind.”

The door hinges groaned and Cas took a single step forward, positioning himself just slightly ahead of Dean. The demons had begun gathering in force and were pushing rhymthically, trying to get through.

Dean glanced at the back of Cas’s head and sighed in disgust. He hated it when he missed something important. The fact that Cas always sounded like a disapproving high-school principal when he pointed it out didn’t help. And anyway, this was bullshit! He’d actually done a decent amount of extra reading lately. He knew it was way less than he needed to, but it had been a real sacrifice and he was proud of himself!  

The rhythm of the pounding had increased to almost non-stop. Fragments of wood were beginning to fly across the room as the metal hardware slowly worked loose. Cas let his head tilt down, raptor glare in full force. His eyes became bluer...and then began to glow. His arms slowly bowed out away from his body.

Dean recognized that movement as Cas about to flash his wings and he started to step back. Before he could get clear, he felt a strange sensation move through his chest and arms.

He curled protectively. Not out of pain or fear - what he felt didn’t hurt. In fact, he wasn’t sure he ‘felt’ it at all. More like he _recognized_ it... With his _soul_.

Dean’s eyes went wide as that thought rattled its way through his psyche.

He moved his body out of the path of Cas’s invisible, rising wings, and the sensation immediately stopped. He swallowed and backed up one more step, forcing himself to shake it off. Because it wasn’t a big deal. It was just one of those freaky angel-things...

...and right now he needed to focus on killing demons

...not on how Cas had just feather stroked his soul.  

He lowered his gun, watching both Cas and the breaking doors, readying his hand to cover his eyes.

They waited.

And waited.

Eventually, they both sighed in annoyance. The demons were taking longer to get through than they’d expected. But while the glowing seraph was almost twitching with anticipation, ready to lay waste to a throng of Hell spawn, the long moments of inaction were allowing Dean’s insecurities to rise to the surface. He couldn’t allow that. Time to yell at Cas.

“You gonna tell me what it said or I gotta guess?” he snapped.

“Perhaps I should write it down when we get home and make you translate it yourself.” His voice was completely calm...with just the tiniest hint of condescension.

Dean glared uselessly at the back of Cas’s head. “I’m not above puttin’ a couple of these rounds into your back right now,” he warned. “Even with full mojo, I bet it’d still sting like a bitch.”

Cas didn’t have time to respond. The door finally burst open, sending shards of wood and metal several feet in every direction.

The demons poured through and immediately started a panicked pile-up just a couple of steps inside the foyer. The ones in front saw the glowing seraph and began yelling and scrambling backward. The ones behind them hadn’t seen him yet and continued to barrel forward. The result was a shifting heap reminiscent of a massive train derailment.

“Shut your eyes!” Cas yelled. Dean ducked and covered.

One second later, a deafening cry arose from the terrified demons. Angelic power filled the exit foyer, the entire length of the corridor, and all of the adjacent rooms and hallways. When the glow faded, the floor was littered with corpses.

Dean slowly took his hand away from his eyes and looked around at the sea of destruction in front of him. He held onto just enough composure to keep his mouth from hanging open, but it was close. He still found it really hard to believe that Cas… the weird, dorky little angel that had stared and squinted and personal-space-invaded his way into the Winchester family... could actually bring this level of destruction to a fight. The guy was fucking terrifying.

It was awesome.

He looked over at Cas almost nervously, as his friend finished pulling back his power and, from the looks of it, his wings. Dean straightened and cleared his throat. He checked his gun again, making sure it was still ready.

Cas looked back at him and motioned with his head for Dean to follow.

The angel waved his hand and the smoking bodies slid to either side. Another blasé gesture toward the ceiling silenced the alarms. Dean blinked at the sudden quiet.

“You coulda done that earlier.”

“It’s better if they’re panicking.” Cas replied, and the two of them jogged back down the corridor. They reached the main stairwell, and began a rapid ascent to the fourth floor. Dean continued their conversation.

“Ya know… this whole thing is already as messed up as it can possibly get. I’m not gonna fuckin’ beg you to tell me what bullshit graffitti they painted on that asshole’s chest.”

“There were several phrases,” Cas calmly explained, taking the steps two or three at a time and making Dean fight to keep up, “but the largest one - the one in the center... Loosely translated, it said, ‘Sheathe for the Righteous Man’s Weapon.’”

“What?” Dean furrowed his brow. He was breathing hard, now… and actively refusing to acknowledge the little voice in his head telling him that Sam might be onto something with the whole running thing. “What the hell…” he panted. “Sheathe for...” Dean’s face fell. He rolled his head and just barely snarled.

“I agree,” Cas said, noticing the change in Dean’s expression...and completely misinterpreting it. “It seems oddly philosophical, given the circumstances. One can only assume Crowley’s meaning to be that I somehow represent that which causes a lessening of aggression and hostility in your life. Or perhaps that my presence causes you to be less effective as a fighter. It’s difficult to know without further information, but none was present in the surrounding sigils. Those seemed to be entirely nonsensical. Decorative, even.” Cas snorted derisively. He reached the top of the stairs and pulled open the door. He leaned through, checking the corridor for threats. Dean caught up to him seconds later.

“Uh-huh...” Dean grunted. “OR…” he began emphatically, “it wasn’t _philosophical_ at _all_.”

Cas was looking at him quizzically.

“Oh, come on, Cas… Not my ‘weapon’” he said, waving his knife and the gun in front of his friend. “My ‘ _weapon!_ ’” He jerked his pelvis forward with several obscene thrusts.

Cas squinted at him.

Dean shook his head. “He was sayin’ you’re ‘ _Dean’s Dick Holster!’_ ” he boomed. He was suddenly aware of just how loudly that echoed down the silent corridor and was grateful they’d already killed nearly everyone. He watched his friend’s face for any hint of understanding.

Cas stared at him for a long moment. His brow furrowed and he let his eyes drift to the side, while he processed.

Dean saw the exact moment Cas figured it out.

The angel’s vessel tightened. He turned and began a forceful stride down the corridor, keeping a constant kill-face and spewing a string of very informal-sounding Enochian.

Dean scrambled to keep up and then stayed right on his heels, continuing to guard their backs as they marched toward the control room. Cas was no longer interested in possible attacks. He moved as though he owned the place, focused entirely on one room in particular, near the end of the corridor. He could hear the demon-king in there - his constant, sarcastic droning about banal proceedings in Hell had become insufferable. Cas needed to crush his throat.

A demon burst through a door near the far end of the corridor and Cas didn’t bother killing it. He simply motioned with his arm and the demon was thrown up and back, crashing through the window at the end of the corridor and disappearing out of the building.

Caution and strategy were gone. When they reached the control room, Cas kicked the door down with his bare foot and stormed through the opening.

Dean watched this with growing appreciation. There was very little he’d ever found hotter than Castiel fully pissed off and ready to kick ass. He was just glad it wasn’t aimed at _him_ this time.

He checked the corridor again, and then dove into the room after Cas, gun and blade ready. His eyes quickly scanned everywhere. They were alone in the room. The only activity was a wall full of monitors, all showing Crowley’s smug face.

Cas was standing still, taking in his surroundings and the high-definition recording of Crowley being played back on a long loop. The angel’s shoulders and arms flexed hard and then relaxed. A moment later, Cas turned and walked out. He called to Dean from the corridor and the two of them began making their way back toward the stairwell.

They’d only taken a few steps when Cas’s knees gave slightly and he curled down with a muffled groan. Dean’s arm instinctively shot out to brace him.

“Hey!” Dean called to him. He shifted to help brace Cas with his shoulder, while he tucked the demon blade away. Then he got his free hand on the angel’s bicep, holding him steady.

Cas was taking deep, shaky breaths, but he managed to look over at Dean and nod reassuringly.

It took Dean a few seconds, but he finally caught on.

“Ah, shit!” he groaned. “It’s still in there? Still turned on?”

Again, Cas nodded. “He changed the setting again,” he said, before clenching again. “It’s alright. I’ve...I’ve almost got it.” He reached out a hand and held onto Dean’s arm. His breathing slowly steadied and he straightened.

“You’re breathin’? He still got a way to shut off your mojo?”

“No,” Cas assured him. “No, it’s just a bit easier to, uh...to calm my vessel...if I breathe.” He took another moment and then began to move forward. Dean still clung to him, trying to hold him up. Cas looked at his friend’s extremely concerned face and most of the anger and tension fell away.  He grinned at him and nodded. “I’m fine. But, we need to get out of here.”

“You sure?” Dean waited for Cas to confirm before he let go and they both started a slightly more than casual jog down the corridor.

Just before they reached the stairwell, the door leading to it flew open and the long double-barrel of Dean’s favorite Smith and Wesson shotgun poked through, followed quickly by a very intense and focused Sam. He swung the weapon to point at them, and immediately lowered it as Dean and Cas both raised their hands.

“Whoa! Sam!” Dean called out. Right on Sam’s heels, Mary stepped through the door, holding the sawed off against her hip and pointing down the corridor in the opposite direction. She hadn’t yet seen Sam lower his weapon.

“Mom!” Dean called out. Mary looked over her shoulder...and lowered her weapon, as well.

“You guys ok?” Sam asked, propping the stairwell door open so they could pass through in front of him.

“We’re fine, Sam. Mary,” Cas said, nodding to each of them.

“We’re good,” Dean confirmed. “We gotta get outta here, though. Knowin’ Crowley, he’ll’ve called the cops or fire department.”

“So it was Crowley?!” Sam barked. He shook his head. “Son of a bitch,” he huffed. He set his jaw. “What the hell _was_ this? What happened?”

Dean sighed and shook his head. “I’ll...tell ya when we know more. The guy’s a fuckin’ psycho.” He motioned for everyone to start back down the stairwell. “All I know is we’re done. The shit he just pulled moved his back-stabbin’, pervy ass to the top of my ‘to-do’ list.”

Mary cut in before they started to move.

“We saw your handywork downstairs, Cas,” she said with appreciative smile. “Not bad.”

Cas grinned at her, slightly embarrassed by the praise.

“Is that all of ‘em, though?” Sam asked.

“Most of them, at least,” Cas said and began to descend the steps. “But don’t let your guard down.”

“We’ve already seen one straggler,” Dean added.

They made a rapid descent to the first floor and the exit, covering each other and keeping watch around every turn. No other demons appeared.

As soon as they were past the sea of corpses by the exit, they blew out of the facility at a full run. Dean had been right. There were sirens rapidly approaching. They needed to disappear...right now.

Cas made it all the way to the Impala, before curling again and making a rather undignified noise.

“Cas!” Mary shouted, reaching for him. She handed the gun to Sam to toss in the trunk and then had two hands on Cas’s upper arm, bracing him.

“I’m fine,” he assured her and then straightened up.

“In the car! Now,” Dean yelled as he dove into the back seat. “Cas!”

Cas slid in next to Dean. Mary took shotgun and just managed to close her door before Sam gunned it and sped away from the compound on a dirt access road. They barely missed being spotted by the fire truck as it rolled past the open gates.

The road lead them under an old viaduct and then narrowed even further as it cut a strip through the dense woods. They would now be invisible to anyone at the compound, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t be followed.

Dean cringed with every twig or hanging vine that scraped along the polished black paint.

After they’d gone a mile or so, they relaxed a little. Information was quickly exchanged and then the questions began to fly. Dean was doing his solid best to field them, but he was having a hard time concentrating. Every glance to his right revealed an increasingly miserable angel.

Cas was obviously trying not to squirm or let anything show on his face, but Mary kept asking him if he was ok and Cas kept curling up further and further, until he was awkwardly pointing his entire body toward the door. He tried to hold that position as the car bumped along a very rutted section of the dirt road, but it was nearly impossible to do it without banging his head and face into the door and window glass.

Dean was doing his best to keep himself from getting thrown around, but he could see Cas getting beat up. He braced his shins against the back of the front seat and reached behind himself, between the seat and seat-back, feeling for the lap belt. He grabbed it, pulled it out and put it on and then immediately grabbed Cas’s arm.

Cas tried to pull away at first, but Dean wasn’t having it. He switched instead to putting his whole arm around the angel’s waist and scooping him into a hug.

Cas finally rolled toward Dean and curled tightly into his friend, laying his head on the man’s chest.  

The bumps and ruts in the road got much worse and all of them scrambled for something to hold onto. It didn’t help much.

“Shit!” Sam grunted, trying to steer away from the worst of the ruts. “Hang on!”

“Come on, Sam!” Dean complained when the car lurched violently three times in as many seconds.

“Sorry!” Sam called back to him.

“Ah...dammit!” Dean groaned. Every hard jar threatened to undo his perfect front-end alignment.

Sam winced when he hit another unseen dip. They needed to get out of there, so he couldn’t slow down too much, but the way the light was coming through the trees was throwing dappled shadows on the road and making it almost impossible for him to see most of the bumps. More than once, the impala bottomed out against the rocky soil and Sam knew he’d be listening to his brother re-tell and bitch about this escape for the rest of Dean’s life on Earth, and probably in Heaven, too.

The road smoothed out a little and Dean manoeuvred Cas into a better position so he could hang onto him. The angel was sweating and Dean could feel him shivering.

“Sam, turn the heat on.”

Mary looked back at her son rubbing his hands along Cas’s bare arm and shoulders. She stripped off her jacket and passed it back to them.

“Thanks,” Dean said quietly, and wrapped it around him.

“What’s going on, Dean,” Mary asked. Sam looked back at him as well.

“He’s…” Dean sighed. “He’s ok. We just need to get home.”

“Yeah, but what’s- Shit!” Sam cut himself off and jerked the wheel hard to the left, but it was too late. They hit a deep rut and everyone lurched hard.

Cas let out a miserable cry and turned his face into Dean’s chest.

“Sorry! Sorry...Cas! I’m sorry!” Dean said, wincing and squeezing his friend tightly.

“Come on, Dean?” Sam nearly yelled in frustration. “What the hell? Cas are you hurt?”

“It’s...I accidentally- ” Dean began.

“I’m fine,” Cas cut him off, answering Sam in a register far higher than any of them had ever heard him speak.

“Yeah...convincing,” Sam complained.

“Dean,” Mary began, but they hit another rough patch of shallow but very closely spaced ruts. The vibration made everyone’s teeth chatter.

After about three seconds of this, Cas let out one long, incoherent yell that kept increasing in volume as the shaking continued.

“Cas,” Sam called back to him as soon as the vibrations stopped.

“I’m fine!” Cas yelled. He turned his head away from Dean’s chest enough to continue speaking clearly and tried to dial back the volume. “But my penis has been painfully engorged for hours and I would really appreciate any effort you could make to avoid that kind of vibration again!”

Mary and Sam both had a multitude of reactions flicker across their faces while they processed that. Dean groaned and dragged his hand down his face.

“Yeah...you got it,” Sam called back to him...and then immediately hit another deep pothole.

“SAM!” Cas and Dean cried simultaneously.

“Sorry!” Sam winced. “Ah, crap!” He slowed down almost to a stop.

“Do not stop!” Dean yelled.

“I’m not…” Sam said, flustered. “There’s another...section with the little ruts!”

“Just keep going,” Mary said to him, realizing there was no real way around this.

Sam groaned resignation. He knew she was right. He hit the gas and sped back up about halfway. The vibrations began and rapidly increased.

Within seconds, Cas actually screamed and then threw an arm around Dean. Mary looked back and then turned very quickly to stare out the windshield.

“Cas,” Sam instinctively looked back at them.

“Nope!” Mary yelled, grabbing his arm and indicating that he should look forward.

The sounds Cas was now making, coupled with his earlier comment, made it very clear that Mary was right. Sam stared almost stoically out the windshield, obsessively looking for the slightest dips or bumps in the road. He knew he couldn’t do any better to avoid them, but anything would be better than looking at what was happening in the back seat right now.

No one said anything more, as Cas gasped and whimpered through multiple waves of what sounded like an incredibly intense orgasm and clung to Dean like a giant koala.

Dean squeezed him tightly and closed his eyes.

It went on for far longer than anyone would have expected and all of them started to wonder if anything else was wrong, right about the time Cas finally let out an exhausted groan and went completely limp in Dean’s arms.

Moments afterward, they reached the end of the dirt road and turned onto broken pavement. It was quite a bit smoother, but it only took about twenty more seconds before they reached the main highway that would take them back home. That surface, mercifully, had been freshly paved. Sam turned onto it and gunned the engine, quickly taking them up to a completely illegal speed.

Dean had his nose and lips resting lightly in Cas’s hair. When he knew the worst of it was over, he lightly pat his friend’s back.

“You ok?” he asked quietly.

Cas nodded. “Yeah,” he whispered. He took another deep breath and slowly let it out. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” Dean cut him off. “Don’t do that. This isn’t… you can’t do anything about this. It’s fine. You just… do what…” he sighed, frustrated. “You just don’t worry about it, ok? We’ll get you home and figure out how to get that outta there. It’s gonna be ok.”

“It’s the band,” Cas murmured. He let his head lean back so he could look up at Dean. “Around my waist. It’s the source of the protection for the insertable and keeping me from using my grace to push it out- ”

“Ok. Alright,” Dean interrupted, sounding thoroughly uncomfortable. “We’ll figure that out. There’s gotta be somethin’ at the bunker that’ll tell us how to break the spell.” He said it with far more confidence than he felt, but he didn’t let it show. He looked down at Cas and gave him a small, encouraging grin.

Cas stared at him and nodded. Then he grimaced,  squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath.

“Cas?” Dean asked. Then he realized what was happening. “You’re kiddin’. Already?”

Cas groaned miserably, then his breath hitched and he nodded, curling much tighter into Dean.

“Ah, man…”, Dean sighed. “‘S’ok, Cas. We’ll be home soon.” He squeezed his friend’s shoulders and pulled him tight to his chest.

Dean noticed Sam’s questioning gaze in the rearview mirror and he shrugged a response. He had no idea what they should be doing.

He sighed again and stared out the window...as though the answers might be out there. Then he looked back down at his friend.

“What kinda cake is it, Cas?” Dean asked into the angel’s hair. “The one you made. Is it chocolate?”

“Uh…” Cas grunted. He panted briefly, then twisted his face out of Dean’s shirt so he could answer. He nodded. “Yes. Deh...devil’s food.”

“Ah, that’s the good stuff.” Dean pat his back, trying to keep his touches as non-erotic as possible. “My favorite. How’d you know that was my favorite?”

“S-Sam.”

“Sammy…” Dean said, exaggerating the name like he was officially declaring him the best little brother on Earth. “He’s kinda handy that way, huh?”

Cas nodded and then abruptly jerked, grimacing. He panted a few more times and then jerked again, much harder, and cried out. He turned his face back into Dean’s chest to muffle a few sobs.

Dean closed his eyes and dropped his face down into Cas’s hair. “Hold on,” he whispered.

After a few moments, the intensity seemed to lessen a bit and Cas reached his hand up to lightly clutch at Dean’s shirt.

 

* * *

 

Crowley stared at his phone as he slowly strolled across the large, empty room toward his throne.

“Cake and decorations,” he mumbled absently. “ _Really_ , Castiel… so much to learn.”

He reached the dais but remained standing in front of the gaudy chair while he slowly worked through a few remaining tasks. There were still a couple of them that couldn’t be done until after he was certain the plan had been successful, but he knew it was only a matter of time.

Still, he hoped it would be soon. His angelic business partners had been texting non-stop and he truly couldn’t imagine anything he wanted more than for them to shut up. They were insufferably whiney.

He scrolled through his apps and pulled up a map on the screen. A small red dot pulsed silently over a very familiar twenty mile wide zone in northern Kansas. It had stopped moving a little over an hour and a half ago. Crowley grinned, imagining the hilariously high level of awkwardness in that tacky bunker at the moment.

Dean would almost certainly have convinced Castiel by now. There was no way the angel would have held out if they were at home, in private. That little gem inside him was far too good at it’s job. No one - angel, demon, human or...other - had yet to resist it for longer than a couple of hours. Castiel had lasted the longest, but he’d expected that. Cas was absurd. Of course he’d fight the idea of having the man he loves give him an emotionally and physically satisfying sexual experience. It’s just who he was.

He checked the time again and sighed. It had been just over two hours since he’d smeared ink across Castiel’s back, effectively destroying all the beautiful warding. He’d hating doing it. Cas really did look fantastic. Even if the warding sigils were excluded, those sweeping lines added a lovely aesthetic to the angel’s vessel. He sighed and made a mental note to send the design to Dean...in case the hunter ever wanted to repeat the fun.  

It suddenly occurred to him that he hadn’t heard any notifications of texts or calls in the last few minutes. Or at least, he hadn’t been receiving them. A knowing hopefulness fueled his smile as he checked his phone’s functionality. It was working. Everything was fine. Which meant the angels had stopped.

At that moment, a text came through. It was from the angels. Crowley breathed deeply, anticipating the feeling of satisfaction. He absolutely loved when a good plan came together. It never got old.

He scrolled to his msgs.

 

        _‘We’d begun to lose hope. Please accept our apologies for the threats.’_

 

He furrowed his brow and squinted. He’d definitely need to go back through all of those texts he’d ignored. Apparently, these angels had gotten cranky. Excellent. He could do with a good laugh. Another text came through.

 

        _‘Castiel’s longing and pain has been eased. Peace has been restored. On behalf of every member of the Sacred Council of the Rit Zien, I thank you.’_

 

Crowley smiled. “Finally,” he mumbled to himself, as he typed.

 

_‘My pleasure. Always happy to foster a better working relationship between our dominions.’_

 

There was a short pause before the next text arrived.

 

_‘That was in no way our intent. The idea of establishing a prolonged amicable relationship with you is abhorrent. We hope you understand.’_

 

Crowley snorted, shaking his head. “ _This_ is your family, Cas…You never really had a chance, did you?”

 

        _‘Of course. My mistake. When should I expect your envoy to deliver payment?’_

 

_‘It is done. Even now, Dozoriel awaits you at the agreed upon location.’_

 

_‘Excellent. I shan’t keep him waiting long. Best regards, from myself and the Great and Eternal Dominion of Hell’_

 

There was a much longer pause and Crowley’s smile grew with each passing second. There really was no better way for a demon to fuck with an angel’s head than to be reliable, honest and polite. The mental conflict that caused was always delicious.

 

        _‘Yes.’_

 

Crowley snorted. And waited.

 

        _‘Goodbye.’_

 

That got an actual laugh. He sighed contentedly and sat. Even without the Ark, it had still been a very good day.

He poured himself a whiskey from the decanter next to his throne and leaned back, swirling the fragrant liquid to coat the sides of the glass. As he watched it, trying to ignore the nagging silence in the empty room, his smile slowly changed. He took a small sip and let the smooth liquor burn it’s way down his throat. It was delicious, as always, and satisfying and almost enough to distract him from the one thing still missing - the one thing that was always missing - that would have made this moment perfect.  

That thought reminded him. He flipped through the apps on his phone, stopping when he found the crudely-made gif of a tiny angel with both hands on its crotch, flapping its wings frantically.

He tapped the icon, selected ‘Variable Pulse’, ‘Max’, ‘Multi-Dimension Stim = Y’, ‘No End Time’ and pressed ‘Start.’

_Whoosh_

He sighed and dropped the phone back into his pocket. Leaning back, he took another sip. Dean and Cas had finally pulled the trigger. Order had been restored to the universe. And since Cas’s true-form had stopped screaming it’s pain and pining and angst at Heaven’s little team of super-Kavorkians… they no longer needed to kill him. At this point, there really was no reason to not give the hunter and his angel the full experience. That little toy had a broad range of abilities. They should enjoy them all.

He lifted the whiskey to his nose and lovingly inhaled the rich aroma. Then, with a wistful smile, he raised the glass out in front of himself in a simple toast:

“Happy Birthday, Dean.”

 

* * *

 

 

**EPILOGUE**

Crowley had finished his task list hours ago, but he was still sitting quietly in the empty throne room, staring absently at nothing in particular. He poured the last few drops of whiskey from the decanter into his glass and made a mental note to determine which demon was responsible for him running out of his favorite treat at such an inopportune time. He wasn't even close to drunk enough yet. Clearly that demon was disloyal and needed to die horribly.

He’d deal with that later, though. Right now, he was still pondering the fact that he'd gotten his…' _friend?’_...properly laid, and Castiel, the long-suffering, sad-sack seraph his _'friend'_ was in love with, was now thoroughly defiled. It had been a good plan. Beautifully executed. He was proud of himself. He just wished he could be happy about it.

He lifted his glass to his nose and then brought it to his lips, to take the last luxurious sip. He closed his eyes and let the liquor glide smoothly over his tongue.

It was the dramatic change in the sound of his surroundings that alerted him and he opened his eyes.

He couldn’t say that he was entirely surprised to have been summoned to Kansas. Nor was he shocked to see Sam Winchester standing a few feet away with a bleeding hand and a smoking spell bowl. Mary Winchester was standing next to him, holding a crossbow with an angel blade loaded and aimed directly at his chest.

What he didn’t expect was to find himself standing outside the bunker, watching three rather serious-looking tornadoes snaking around each other in the field behind the two humans, perhaps only half a mile off.

A loud popping noise behind him made him turn. He saw the perfectly normal facade of the bunker, except for the enormous pillar of fire shooting out of the top of the power plant above it. It extended skyward for what had to be several miles. It was extremely impressive.

He nodded appreciatively and looked back at the Winchesters.

“Sam. Mary. How can I help y- ”

“PHONE!” Sam demanded, pointing at the ground by Crowley’s feet. He held the demon blade at the ready as an additional threat, and appeared ready to accept exactly zero shit off of anyone.

Crowley opened his mouth to speak.

“Shut up!” Sam commanded.

The demon frowned, disappointed. These people were no fun at all.

He reached into his jacket and retrieved his phone, holding it up in a show of appeasement. Then he leaned over and gently tossed it onto the ground close to the edge of the demon trap.

As soon as it was within reach, Sam reached down and grabbed the phone. He looked at Mary, who was keeping her weapon trained on the demon, and then he focused on the phone.

Within seconds, Sam had found the application and turned it off. Moments later, the traumatic natural phenomena around them dissipated. Without a word, Sam scraped his boot through the thick chalk line, releasing the demon.

Crowley frowned at both of them. “No appreciation…” he grumbled. He shook his head and disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, I just finished a fic!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
> Like...it's actually done. Yes, I'll obsessively re-read it and correct errors, but...it's done! DONE! OMG!  
> I seriously don't know what to do with myself right now.
> 
> Also, if we assume they've gotten control over the Warded Prostate Massager, such that it can be safely removed/inserted/controlled by Cas or Dean, I figure maybe a week later is when we'd start seeing scenes like this: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10565337


End file.
